


Percy Jackson and... Time Traveling?

by BlooBlu



Series: Percy Jackson: Time Traveler [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, And PTSD but thats obvious, BAMF Percy Jackson, Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, It's basically the same story but with a slightly smarter percy, Maybe a little bloodier, Percy Jackson has Anxiety, Temporary Character Death, This was mostly a self-indulgence thing, Written on my laptop but posted on mobile so forgive any format mistakes plz, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:13:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 55,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26907919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlooBlu/pseuds/BlooBlu
Summary: Percy Jackson had had fun as a young half-blood, going on quests and saving the world, but eventually heros grow up. They go to college, and get shot in the chest on a hijacked city bus because of their dumb hero-complex and need to save anyone in danger.Thankfully, someone has decided that Percy’s story isn't over yet, and that he could have done things a little differently as a pre-teen/young teenager, and sends him back to the day of his first monster encounter - the day he got expelled.But in the end, will he really make any difference? Or is he now just stuck reliving the past 15 years of his life?(May be occasionally canon non-complaint with The Heros Of Olympus bc I am *not* rereading that entire series as well for context, same goes for Trials of Apollo, because I'm not WRITING those, lol. I tried to only make references that were fairly vague (except for You Know What about Jason) when it came to stuff about Percy from further in the future than his first year at CHB.)EDIT: Book 2 is completed! https://archiveofourown.org/works/27046993/chapters/66033505
Relationships: Annabeth Chase & Percy Jackson, Percy Jackson & Grover Underwood, Percy Jackson & Sally Jackson
Series: Percy Jackson: Time Traveler [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965973
Comments: 24
Kudos: 229





	1. Chapter 0: Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... can you guess which fandom has stolen my hyperfocus for the last 4 days?

Percy Jackson had always thought he'd die tragically. Either to a monster, or maybe if he finally pissed them off enough one day, a god. Probably Zeus, that guy hates his guts. But he never thought that death would come so… boringly. Well, boring for him, at least; maybe some people would find it abnormal for a human with an inferiority complex and an automatic weapon to take a bus hostage and shoot the guy trying to put a stop to it. 

Why a gun? Why did it have to be the one thing he couldn’t dodge or deflect like with swords and maces and battleaxes and pretty much every other blunt and sharp weapon in existence? 

Weirdly enough it doesn’t hurt. Not as much as he’d thought it would, anyway. It’s just one tiny hole in his chest - pathetic compared to some of the wounds he’s had, really. If he just had a bottle of water or could  _ convince one of these idiots to get him some,  _ he’d be just fine. There’d be no worrying about EMT’s and ambulances, just a crowd of people who’d need some mist to explain the guy who got shot point-blank in the chest and lived, but it’d be fine. He’d be fine. 

But of course not, because nothing is ever convenient for him. He’s Percy Jackson, and the world is out to get him at every corner, and now he’s going to have to go explain to his uncle and Nico about what he’s doing in the Underworld. At least it’d be nice to catch up with his little cousin - they hadn’t seen each other for almost two years now, because of responsibilities and all the garbage that comes with being an adult. 

It’s maybe a few moments after his death as far as he can tell by now, but it could have just as easily been hours. But it doesn’t feel like he’s dead, really. How does it feel to be dead, exactly? He’s been near it more than enough times to understand the sucky parts leading up to it, but never the supposed peace and numbness of really crossing over. It sorta just feels like he’s floating, and even with his eyes wide open he can’t see anything. It’s not just dark, like “I just walked into a dark room” or “all the lights just went out” dark, but a complete absence of anything at all to see - it’s so empty that it’s not even  _ dark,  _ actually, but rather there’s nothing for his eyes to focus on. 

_ “Peeercyyyyy… Jack...son..,”  _ a voice calls from the nothingness. Indescribable, with no accent or any hint of being femmenine or masculine, it’s just words - less personality than google translate. 

“Uh… yeah? Y’know uncle Hades, if this is your idea of a prank-”

_ “Do you… want to… go back?” _

“Back? What, like to the mortal world? Duh. But I’m dead.”

_ “Do you. Want to. Go BACK?” _

This was not the first time he’d ever heards creepy voices from seemingly nowhere, but this has got to be the first time he genuinely wasn’t sure if he was actually hearing it or not. Even his most vague hallucinations had always felt real to him, but some part of his brain completely doubted that he was speaking to anyone at all. That this was all some figment of his imagination that wasn’t like any prophecy or empathic link. Still, it’s kinda rude to not answer a question, especially in his line of business. 

“I mean… yeah? Yes. But why are you asking me that?”

_ “Then you shall… go… back… to them…” _

“Who’s ‘them’?”

_ “Do better… this time… Percy Jack… son…” _

“Well  _ that’s  _ a little rude.” 

And then the world spun around him like he was a tetherball who got whacked by a 6th grader with no emotional outlet for their rage, and the nothingness he’d been sitting in turned  _ actually  _ dark. 


	2. Chapter 1: I become a Time-Traveler... I Think

Percy woke up feeling lighter than he had in a long time. Not in the metaphorical sense, he was actually really confused and weirded-out by everything so far, (and probably stressed about his recent death) but he felt  _ physically  _ lighter. He’d never been a huge guy, exactly - even with all of the muscle that years of training and fighting against monsters and gods had earned him, he’d always been firmly in the “lean&mean” category. But suddenly he felt significantly lighter and… smaller. 

Opening his eyes, Percy slammed them back shut and begged for this nightmare to end, because not two seconds after he saw it, he knew he was doomed. Because all around him, from the wallpaper to the bland sheets and dirty socks in the corner, was his old room at Yancy Academy. Why of all the places in his past did he have to visit here, if this was all some dream? Sure, this was where he had met his best friend Grover, and sorta started his journey as a half-blood, but it was still  _ Yancy.  _ Yancy, with Mrs. Dodds and Nancy Bobofit and her stupid cronies. Gods, why didn’t he just punch her in her stupid face and run away when he was twelve?

Maybe he could, now that he was here. That is, if she doesn’t turn into a harpy or gargoyle or some other creature hell-bent on killing him brutally. Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have a few tricks up his sleeve himself - maybe he can have fun with this… dream? Or whatever it is. Reaching over to the half-filled water bottle on his desk, Percy took a moment to chuckle to himself as he made the grimy, probably days-old water swirl around in a mini-whirlpool, before shooting up hard enough to send the cap flying. He amused himself with making little water sharks and Bessises for a few minutes before remembering that he had school, and should probably get ready if he wants to go punch Nancy in her dumb face. 

It’s only after he’s gotten to class and Chiron - (should he call him Mr. Brunner? Nah, that’d be too weird) leads them all outside to one of the school buses that he realizes exactly what day it is. It’s the museum tour, and as he settles down next to Grover in one of the further back seats, he smiles to himself secretly. Oh  _ hell yes.  _ A Chance to punch Nancy in her dumb face  _ and  _ show Mrs. Dodds who’s boss? Maybe this isn’t a nightmare after all! 

“Hey, Percy? You okay dude? You’ve been kinda quiet today.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m great, man! Just plotting my revenge against Boboftt and her cronies. You know, the usual.” 

The two share a quick laugh, and Grover smiles sheepishly.

“Yeah, but you aren’t actually going to do anything, right? You’re on probation, remember? If you do anything, they’ll kick you out.”

“Who cares? With my luck it’ll happen anyway even if I’m duct-taped to the floor until the end of the year and have the best tutors on the planet helping me with my homework every day.”

“That doesn’t mean you should go looking for trouble, though! Just try to get through the field trip today, man, and we’ll keep you safe for the rest of the semester together.” 

“Sure, Grover. Tell that to the peanut butter sandwich in your hair.” 

Part of him feels a little guilty, because even if this is just a dream-Grover, it’s still his friend and he doesn't want to make the guy worry. Another, smaller part of him is too busy wondering about if this is all real or not to be concerned about other people right now. That strange voice had asked if he wanted to “go back.” Which wasn’t very specific, and wasn’t very helpful in determining whether or not any of this was actually happening. Would the gods know? Surely they’d understand time travel, or at least be able to tell him if it was possible or not. 

Before his thoughts could get too complex, the bus stopped, and they all stepped off to stand in front of the museum. Percy wonders if this time, he could dunk Nancy in the fountain  _ without  _ getting in trouble. Not that it really matters long-term, but it’d be a lot easier to enjoy her drenched and crying if he didn’t get expelled for it. 

They make their way inside, and Chiron started giving the tour; almost exactly as Percy remembered it happening the first time. Or maybe it  _ is  _ exactly like the first time around; fifteen years is pretty far back for someone to remember, even if they  _ had _ been paying close attention when it happened. 

He doesn’t try to shush anyone, when they talk over Chiron. It just doesn’t seem worth it, when he already knows all this stuff, and that it wouldn’t help anyways. Instead he just stands closer to his mentor and past teacher, listening to him explain about  _ steles  _ and every other statue they come by. The man seems to appreciate the attention Percy is paying him, at least. At the cost of his dignity, Percy even asks a few questions - not loud enough for the whole class to hear, but just to make it feel less like a pathetic lecture and more of a friendly conversation about man-eating beasts and unkind gods. 

There’s some pointing and giggling despite his discretion, but he doesn’t care what any of those kids think anyway. Can  _ they _ lift an 18-wheeler with the water from a pond? Have they ever held the sky on their shoulders? No, so who cares what they say? He may hate Nancy’s guts, but even those feelings are fading a bit as he wonders why he ever even paid attention to her in the first place. Really, Percy thinks - he probably could have gotten her to leave him alone just by ignoring her (actually ignoring, not sending petty glares and rude gestures her way) for long enough.

Eventually they stop by a familiar painting, and Chiron says to the class: “Now, who can tell me what this painting represents?”

Knowing no one else is likely to answer, Percy just jumps right in without even raising his hand first. 

“That’s the Titan Kronos eating his kids Hestia, Demeter, Hera, Hades and Posiedon. He thought he ate Zeus too, but it was just a boulder in a blanket that his wife made him think was the baby.”

“Yes, perfect. And why did he do this?”

“He thought they’d overthrow him one day, so he didn’t want to give ‘em the chance. But Zeus grew up and tricked his dad into throwing up his kids and then they all beat him, so it was sorta all for nothing.”

One of the girls behind him makes a disgusted noise at the whole “throwing up his kids’ part, but Percy doesn’t stop for one idiot’s sake. 

“And just what does any of this matter, Mr. Brunner? It’s not like we’re gonna need to know any of this in real life. There’s no spot on a resume that says “now please explain why Kronos ate his kids”.” 

There’s some snickers from the rest of the class, and he has a sudden urge to make one of the water fountains malfunction and spray Nancy Bobofit in the face. 

“Well, to paraphrase miss Bobofit’s excellent question, why does this matter in real life, Mr. Jackson?” 

Oh, he could give _ so _ many fun answers to that question, but most of them would get him locked up in an asylum at worst, and laughed at by the whole school for the rest of the year at best. He takes a moment to think about it, and finally decides on an answer: 

“Well, even though no humans would ever come face-to-face with a power-hungry Titan in their life, there’s still some life lessons to be learned in these stories, right? Like, when Orpheus went to get his wife from the Underworld but couldn’t keep from turning back to look at her because he couldn’t hear her footsteps - that teaches patience and faith.”

Chiron nodded, seemingly satisfied, and called for lunch time. Percy wished he could have said something like “because that story tells you why you don’t mess with Zeus, like, ever” or “if you’re ever swallowed by a Titan, you can probably survive for at least a little while if you have a god’s blood, so plan accordingly”. But that would give away a little too much, if he is actually in the past and not just dreaming. If he did somehow become a time traveller, there’s no way he’d be telling anyone right away - it’d probably cause the end of the world or something. 

He and Grover turned to follow everyone else outside to watch the foot traffic on 5th avenue as they ate, when Chiron came over in his motor-powered wheelchair. “Mr. Jackson,” was all he said.

Grover looked like he wanted to stay, but Percy waved for him to go on ahead. He was curious what the centaur had to say this time around, since he’d actually answered those trivia questions pretty well. Maybe it was just another speech about trying harder and doing his best in school. Maybe he knew that Percy is from the future, somehow, or would be the key to getting out of the dream. (He was steadily thinking more and more along the lines of time travel, considering how accurate this all was so far - way more accurate than his own memory usually is.)

“Yeah, Mr. Brunner?”

“I just wanted to say that I’m thrilled to see someone so interested in one of my lessons, you did very well on the trivia. May I ask when you gained such an interest in Greek Mythology?”

Well, time travel or not he wouldn’t actually tell the guy he’d only jumped in to make things feel less awkward. “Well, you see… I’ve been reading a few stories about Poseidon lately, and he’s a pretty interesting guy; made horses, even though he rules over the sea, pretty cool right? Got me a little more invested in the tales, I guess.” 

“I see.” 

And that was that, apparently. Chiron zoomed off in his magical wheelchair and Percy went to catch up with Grover for lunch. 

Catching a glimpse of Mrs. Dodds outside, he instinctively reached into the front pocket of his pants, before realizing that he doesn’t have Riptide on him right now. Right, it’d still be with Chiron until the centaur threw it to him in his showdown with the Fury. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have any clever plans to get it from the centaur, so he’d just have to wait until - ah. Right on time, Bobofit. 

Spilling her half-eaten lunch on Grover’s lap with a loud “oops!”, Nancey cackled like a harpy with her gaggle of friends behind her. This time, he doesn’t use a huge wave of water to knock her into the fountain, (it had taken him an embarrassingly long time to realize that that’s what had happened, but hey, strange times okay?) He just calmly moves to help Grover get the worst of it off his pants and offers to bring him to the restroom to get paper towels. 

As they’re both walking away, a faint rattling could be heard coming from the pipes of the fountain, then a burst and hiss of pressurized water and an ungly harpy girl screaming about her outfit and hair. Percy grinned, not at all unlike a warrior who had finally slain his greatest enemy in battle, and guided his friend to the bathrooms inside. 

He  _ would  _ say that he’s surprised to see Mrs. Dodds waiting for them outside of the bathrooms when they exit, but then he’d be lying.

“Mr. Jackson, sneaking off from the group are we? Come with me, honey.”

“W-wait, ma’am! It was my idea, please don’t-” It’s really nice how Grover tires to defend him, but Percy just shakes his head and motions for his friend to leave. Even without Riptide by his side, he’s confident enough in his strength (and ability to control someone’s blood to an extent, as much as he hates it it’s an option) to take down one monster by himself. Besides, anyone stupid enough to challenge the son of Poseidon in a building with running water isn’t a threat. 

Mrs. Dodds does, at least, have the sensibility to march him into a room a good way away from the restrooms, but it doesn’t matter. By the terrified look Grover had given him before leaving earlier pretty much guaranteed that Chiron would be finding them soon, hopefully with a certain celestial bronze sword in hand. 

“You’ve been giving us problems, honey,” Mrs. Dodds says. 

“That was kind of the plan, yeah.” 

She tugged on the cuffs of her jacket, and his eyes flicked between following the movement and discerning where her eyes were looking, to discern where she’d strike first. 

“Did you really think you’d get away with it?”

“I didn’t steal the bolt, but hey thanks for the vote of confidence.”

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

“Pretty sure you’re the one who’s gonna be feeling some pain soon.” 

He’s not sure why he even brought up the bolt in the first place - it was sort of just a force of habit to deny everything first, at this point. But now it’d be pretty hard to sell anyone on the “I don’t know anything” point if she told anyone about this conversation. Maybe sending her to the Underworld for a while would make her forget. 

“Are you going to confess?”

“Didn’t do anything, sooo…”

“Your time is up!”

The transformation from human to Fury wasn’t as shocking as he remembered it being, but it was cool to watch. The lengthening of nails into talons, teeth sharpening into disgusting yellow fangs - she was really putting on a show, huh? And five, four, three, two… 

“What ho, Percy!” 

...There it is. Snatching Riptide from the air, he didn’t even have to uncap it (thanks, Chiron) before it transformed into the glittering beauty he remembered. It was missing a few familiar worn features - the leather grip felt newer, and there were a few old nicks missing that he’d never quite sharpened out properly. Well, it gave the sword character, in his humble opinion; this just meant they’d get to remake those memories together again - hopefully with less injuries on his part. 

Rushing forward to intercept her as Mrs. Dodds charged, Percy met talon with sword and sliced through her like a knife through warm butter. She disappeared in a cloud of sulfur, just like the countless monsters he’d slain before. Capping Riptide with a pen cap he doesn’t remember retrieving, Percy returns his sword to its place in his pocket, knowing that that’s where it would return any time they were separated for as long as he lived. 

It had started to rain outside. He takes a moment to glance between Grover still finishing the remnants of his lunch, Nancy complaining loudly to her friends about faulty water fountains, and Chiron who was reading and unaffected by the earlier battle as always. The man doesn’t ask for Riptide back this time, simply nodding at Percy as he passed by, wondering when the bus home would arrive.


	3. Chapter 2: Crazier then ever but no one sees it

The rest of the school year is better than he remembered it being. Maybe because he's not hellbent on getting anyone to admit that Mrs. Dodds actually existed, instead of this Mrs. Kerr that he knows didn’t teach at Yancy until that day after their field trip. He and Grover hang out, he gets slightly better grades in classes but not too much - enough to pass, but he’s not looking for A’s, ignoring how suspicious it would be. 

Percy knows that this isn’t just a dream now - it can’t be, with how long it’s been. At the very least this is a very elaborate spell, but he’s pretty convinced that whatever happened the day he dies actually sent him back in time. Of course he misses it, a lot, actually - he misses Annabeth, his old Grover, Tyson and Nico and all of his friends. If this is really a second chance for him, though, he’s going to make the best of it - Jason’s going to live a long and happy life. Nico will grow up with a sister - eventually two. Everyone’s going to be fine, Percy will make sure of it. 

There’s only a week left of school. He has seven days to decide whether or not he’ll go back next year - well, technically he doesn’t have to be denied his rights to come back next year in order to choose to go somewhere else, but it’s just not his style to leave a school peacefully. Really, would he even be Percy Jackson if he just asked his mom to transfer him somewhere else?

Somehow not having all the drama of feeling betrayed by his best friend and being stressed over his grades makes life seem really boring, his last week at Yancy. When he boards the Greyhound to Manhattan with Grover, he still notices his friend’s fidgeting, but doesn’t comment on it. 

Grover offers him his Camp Half-Blood calling card anyway. 

When the bus breaks down, (he’d actually forgotten about his part, funnily enough) Percy looks pointedly  _ away  _ from the fates knitting their socks across the road, and considers a particularly interesting piece of litter by his foot. Almost as an afterthought, he searches the ground for cans, and is pleased to have found three by the time the bus driver shouts in triumph, announcing that the bus is ready to get going again. Quickly, he crushes them with his foot so that Grover can be at least semi-subtle if he decides to eat them on the bus, before passing them to his friend with a wink. Hopefully he doesn’t look too weird - but hey, he feels bad about how he’d treated Grover the first time around, how easily he’d assumed his friend was out to get him - this felt like a necessary apology. His friend gives him an odd look, obviously trying not to look too overjoyed at the gift, before accepting them easily as they get back on board. 

He doesn’t ditch Grover, this time around. Just pays for the cab fare to get them to his home, and bids his friend farewell at the door. He’d invite him inside, but he would subject  _ anyone _ \- especially someone with as sensitive a nose as Grover - to Smelly Gabe and his antics. 

“So, you’re home,” did anyone ever tell this idiot that smoking kills? Well, he’d gladly but the guy a dozen packs if it sped things up. 

“Is mom still at work?” 

“Yup. Got any cash?”

“If I give it to you, will you leave me alone until mom and I leave?”

“Maybe.” 

His drunk friends just laugh, one of them - Edward? Ernest? Has the good grace to look a little sheepish about Gabe’s actions, but doesn;t say anything to protest. So Percy forks over the seven bucks left in his pocket, and resigns himself to spending the next few hours cleaning up his room just for it to be liveable again. 

He barely has time to throw out all the magazines and wipe up a fraction of the ash before his mom is home, and his breath catches in his throat when he sees her. She looks just like she did all those years ago - the day she was taken from him. Sure, he got her back in the end, but that doesn’t mean he’d missed Sally any less, or made the pain of seeing her dissolve into glittering powder any less traumatic. Friends had encouraged Percy to see a grief counselor, (one that specialized in half-blood trauma) but he’d never stuck with it for very long. 

It’s hard not to burst out crying when she hugs him, but he manages. It felt so nice after all this time - dying, going back in time and being unable to speak freely with anyone for months does quite a number to one’s emotional state, apparently. 

“Oh Percy, welcome home! You’ve grown since Christmas, I can tell!” 

Blue candy and meaningless conversation fills the void in his heart, for all of the maybe ten minutes it lasts. With demands for bean dip, and his mother being the wonderful woman she is and negotiating with Gabe to use his car for their trip, their time is interrupted, but he knows they’ll have some time together later. Not a lot, but a little while before chaos would hit and he’d save her from the Minoutaur this time. The thought is only soured further by his mom mentioning that he could tell her about what he hadn’t mentioned about school later.

Roasting hotdogs and marshmallows over a fire, Percy wonders if he should ask about his father again. He’s not curious anymore, really, but he likes hearing his mom talk about him. It made him seem less like another belligerent, annoying God to deal with. Sure, Poseidon treated him with a little respect as his son, but Percy knew that if he was any other half-blood, that the God wouldn’t give a damn about him. He thinks about that smile - the only part of his father he’d ever remembered before meeting him in Olympus. Sometimes he wonders if it was just some hallucination - something he’d thought up as a little kid to make himself feel better about not having a dad. 

...Maybe he doesn’t need to ask about Poseidon tonight. Or ever again. 

“Hey mom, do you think I could go somewhere else for school next year?”

“What? Percy, I thought you liked Yancy, what about Grover? And Mr. Brunner?” 

“Yeah, I do like them, I just… don't think it’s the place for me. I don’t really belong at a boarding school, you know? I get in too much trouble.” 

“Well… I do think we’re going to have to do something eventually, Percy, but for now it’s safer for you at Yancy-”

“Safer? I’m safer in a school where Furies can pretend to be teachers and try to kill me?”

He doesn’t like the painful expression on his mother’s face - shocked, too, but mostly painful and full of guilt. 

“Furies? Percy, you mean that-”

“Yeah mom. I know about the monsters,” he says, before pausing. He can’t give away everything just yet, no matter how much he trusts his mom, reel is back alittle - “I don’t know why they wanna kill me, but some of them… they’re like right out of those stories Mr. Brunner tells us. Remember when I was little and that guy tried to kidnap me from the playground? I swear he was a cyclops.” 

Oh no, he’s making her cry -  _ please don’t do that, mom _ he thinks.  _ I’m sorry, but I need you to let me go to Camp, and there isn’t the pressure of me being expelled anymore. I need to push you in that direction, please just - _

"I've tried to keep you as close to me as I could," his mom says, through her tears. "They told me that was a mistake. But there's only one other option, Percy - the place your father wanted to send you. And I just... I just can't stand to do it."

“The summer camp. Grover gave me a card.”

"I'm sorry, Percy," she sobs, shaking her head. "But I can't talk about it. I - I couldn't send you to that place. It might mean saying good-bye to you for good."

“Okay mom. We don’t have to talk right now.”

So they didn’t. When they went to bed, Percy felt floods of relief when he dreamed of an eagle and a horse fighting on the beach through an awful storm. Maybe it didn’t mean much, realistically - in fact it meant that things really hadn’t changed at all - but in his mind, at least, it meant it was a lot less likely the gods knew about his time travelling. Not that the gods controlled his dreams, but if fate decided he still needed to see these warning signs, it must not recognize that he wouldn’t already know the story. 

Awaking to a raging storm rocking their cabin and his mother yanking open the door to reveal Grover, in all his goat-legged glory. Drenched and teeth chattering, he stepped inside, looking panicked and calming down only marginally upon seeing Percy safe and sound. 

Sally looked utterly resigned, tired in a way he’s never seen her before. She knows why Grover is here, and she tells them to both get in the car. He has the forethought to grab his backpack first - there’s only clothes and a few personal items in it, but it’d be better than the nothing he’d had at camp the first time around - and runs to the camaro with Grover. He feels a little relieved that he didn’t get to tell his mom about the Fates this time, but as he sees her jump into the driver’s seat and floor it - he figures that she probably couldn’t get much more scared than this, anyway. 

The car ride is much more silent this time. He knows they expect him to ask questions, but he can’t really muster the energy to bother. It’s late, it’s storming, and pretending to be curious is hard enough to do when wide-awake. He fingers the sword guise as a fountain pen in his pocket, eventually taking Riptide out and idly spinning her in his hand. Groover notices, and seems marginally pleased.

“Ah, so you did keep it. Chi- I mean, Mr. Brunner -”

“You can say… whatever his real name is, Grover. At this point a teacher using an alias is the least of my worries,” just because he isn’t pretending to be curious doesn’t mean he can just drop the bomb that he already knows about Chiron.

“R- Right. Chiron said he gave it to you, but never got the chance to ask for it back. Thought it’d make you question what happened at the museum too much. I’m actually glad you kept it, though. Could come in handy tonight.” 

“Yeah, magic sword-pens are always useful.” 

“You gave him a  _ sword?  _ When?” Percy thinks that maybe that’s not something his mom should be freaking out about right this minute, but then again not every twelve year old is allowed to own a sword, let alone  _ use _ one. 

“They only let me have it to save myself from that Fury I told you about, mom. I would’ve died if Chiron hadn’t thrown it to me in time.”

“I-” his mother starts. And then the car swerves into a ditch, and it takes everything in his soul to not curse Zeus out loud, because that;d probably only make things worse. 

He doesn’t fall unconscious, thankfully - does pain tolerance travel through time? Percy really hopes so, or this could get sucky real quickly. It’d taken a few too many stabs and poisonings than he cared for to get used to agonizing levels of pain as the norm, and he’d prefer to not have to gain that tolerance back the old-fashioned way. 

“Percy!” his mom shouts. 

“I’m okay! More worried about Grover, I think he hit his head…”

Indeed, his friend was lying in a useless lump of fur and teenager, muttering about food in his sleep. 

“Percy, we have to-” his mother begins, but he’s already unbuckling himself and Grover, pulling his friend through the window facing the sky. His body is still small and untrained, but there’s enough adrenaline pumping through his blood by now to power through it. Sore, pulled muscles later on be damned. Unfortunately, he can already see the Minoutaur not far off, and knows there’s barely enough time to get his mom out of the car and off the road to somewhere out of sight - he needs to move fast. 

Except she keeps yelling at him to run for the hill, to just get over the property line, past the big tree. And she just won’t listen to him as he tries to push her into the shrubs and trees just next to the road, and the Minotaur is approaching and - 

“Mom!” 

“Percy, run!” 

The anguished look in his mother’s eyes will haunt him forever, as the beast charges, shoving one of its horns right through his mother’s chest. At least he’s saved from a more gorey image as she explodes into a cloud of golden dust - but it still hurts. Something in him shatters. Had he ruined everything, now? Before, she’d just been taken away, not actually died. But if she had actually...

Riptide soared through the air, decapitating the source of Percy’s rage in one swipe. As an afterthought, he brings Riptide back in a quick arc to hack off one of its horns before it fully dissipates, as a trophy. Not because he particularly cares about trophies from kills, but just because he thinks it’s appropriate, and totally deserved for killing Sally Jackson. Twice. No one touches his mom, dammit!

Two. Two dollars for the swear jar, and probably half a dozen more by the time he drags Grover over the border of Camp Half-Blood. Capping Riptide, and shoving her into his pocket and the horn into his backpack, now slung over his shoulders, Percy picks Grover up as gently as he can. A bridal carry would be the easiest to do right now, but with how far they have to go, he knows a fireman’s is the only way he’ll make it. 

The rain comes to a slow stop when they’re at the crest of the hill, and he lets himself cry silently as he stumbles down into the valley, towards the barnhouse. In the back of his mind he thinks maybe he should have tried to wake his friend up, so that he wouldn’t get in trouble for technically not escorting Percy to camp, but he doesn’t care right now. He just wants to lie down and mourn his mother for a little bit, before resolving to save her once again. 

Annabeth looks at him oddly when he starts laughing in relief upon seeing her face, and he almost tries to hug her before remembering the load on his back. Setting Grover down with probably not enough care, he collapses to his knees on the porch, before letting himself keel over and pass out from sheer exhaustion. 

“He’s the one. He’s got to be,” is the last thing he hears. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 3: A Centaur and a Wise Girl

He awakes to the taste of nectar on his lips, being spoon-fed to him by Annabeth Chase. He could cry. Actually, he probably already has. She scrapes some of the drips off his chin with a smirk, and Percy really hopes they can be a little more straight-forward with their feelings this time around. If she even falls in love with him again.

“What will happen at the summer solstice?” she asks, upon seeing his eyes open. 

“Nothing good,” he croaks. 

“Could you be a little more specific? We only have a few weeks!” Annabeth shouts. Mentally shrugging, figuring he could at least throw her a small bone after all she’s been through as a half-blood by now, he nods.

“They’re fighting over a lighting bolt, but what they should  _ really  _ be worried about is who took the helmet. If we can’t find it before the solstice, war will come and the world will probably end.”

“You mean the master bolt and Hades’s helmet? But I thought only the bolt was missing?”

“Sorry wise girl, that’s all I know.”

“Wise girl?” Annabeth asks, before he passes out again. 

Waking in a rocking chair on the porch, with a glass of ambrosia sitting next to him, Percy thinks this is a pretty decent way to wake up. His grip is a little weak, but he manages a few sips before sitting back and letting the warm, healing feeling spread through him. Considering he wasn’t nearly as injured as he’d been the first time, he’ll probably feel fine soon. 

Grover walks up to him in his camp clothes, and he’s holding Percy’s backpack in his hand. 

“Hey Percy. Thought you might want this, since it has - you know, inside. They couldn’t keep it in the infirmary, so I held onto it for you.” 

Nodding his thanks, Percy takes the bag and opens it to find everything is where it belonged, the Minotaur’s horn sitting at the very top, ornate without the bloodstain he’d become accustomed to. Grover stumbles over his fake foot as he takes a step back, and curses the river styx as he fumbles to put it back on. 

“You don’t have to wear those for me, Grover. I know you’re a satyr.”

Suddenly his friend starts snivelling and looks down at the ground, looking ashamed. He knows the guy thinks it was all his fault, but really - it’s no one’s fault that he hit his head in the crash. Besides, from what he’s seen of Grover in battle, he wouldn’t have done much against the Minoutaur besides get himself killed instead. Not that his friend isn’t capable, he’s just prone to panic, and didn’t really mature much until after his quest to find Pan. 

"It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. I was supposed to protect you."

"I never asked you to."

"No. But that's my job. I'm a keeper. At least... I was."

Nodding sagely, not wanting to force his friend to talk about it, percy takes a moment to finish his glass of Ambrosia. It gives him the energy to finally stand up and stretch a little. 

“What’d it taste like?”

“Cookies. My mom’s homemade chocolate chip cookies.”

“And how do you feel?”

“Great. A little tired still, but otherwise I’m fine.”

“That’s good, I don’t think we could’ve risked giving you any more of that stuff.”

Knowing Grover wouldn’t answer directly even if he asked, Percy just let his friend take the glass from him and gently set it back down on the side table. 

“C’mon. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting.”

Walking along the wraparound porch until they were on the opposite side of the building, Percy was briefly struck with a great feeling of nostalgia upon viewing the great valley, stretching all the way to the shore. The cabins, the stables, the training ground and strawberry fields, half-bloods running around and satyrs playing music softly in groups. Nymphs and other creatures drifting about, either working or playing in the sun, like any normal teenager. Annabeth was leaning against the porch rail, as Chiron and Mr. D played cards. 

"That's Mr. D," Grover murmured. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And you already know Chiron…”

Chiron, ever the pleasant centaur Percy knew and loved, turned and smiled at them as they approached. “Ah, Percy. Now we have four pinochle!” He gestured to the eat between him and Mr. D - said god grumbled and looked at him with bloodshot eyes. 

“Oh, I guess I gotta say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, now don’t expect me to be happy you’re here.” 

“Look forward to a lot more paperwork, Mr. D. I’m what teachers call a ‘problem child.’ Percy Jackson, nice to meet you.” 

Mr. D just glared at Percy, and Chiron gestured for Annabeth ro come over. 

“Percy, this is Annabeth. She’s the one who nursed you back to health. Annabeth, why don’t you go check on Percy’s bunk? We’ll be putting him in cabin eleven for now.” 

Oh  _ hell no.  _ He’d do anything to keep him away from Luke Castellan for as long as possible, time travel laws be damned, or they might just have a homicide on their hands. 

“Sure Chiron.” 

“Wait! Uh… what’s cabin eleven mean? Is it the cool kids cabin, ‘cause that’s the only room I’ll accept, haha…” 

“Cabin eleven is where all the unclaimed kids go - it’s supposed to be Herme’s cabin, but they take on unclaimed campers too, as the children of the god of travelers.” 

_ Right. _ He can’t just march into camp and claim to be the son of Poseidon and hope dear old daddy just happens to be listening and be kind enough to claim him on the spot. 

“Well, I’m not claimed, but I’m pretty sure I’m not a child of Hermes.” 

“And you’re probably not. But until we know who’s kid you  _ are,  _ it’s cabin eleven for you.” 

“...Right.” 

With that, Annabeth turned around and walked off - but not before saying “by the way, you drool in your sleep!”

Sighing, Percy turned away from the quickly disappearing figure, to look back at Chiron and Mr. D. He really just wants to skip all these introductions and explanations for now, but going around without asking any questions or looking even a little confused would be suspicious. Maybe he could just act aloof, and seem to intuit just enough to get by on basic instructions alone. 

"I must say, Percy," Chiron breaks in, "I'm glad to see you alive. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time."

“I’m glad you didn’t, sir.” 

“Well that remains to be seen!” Mr. D grumbles from his side of the table. 

“Mr. D, please,” Chiron chides. 

“Grover, you playing or not?” Mr. D continues, as if he didn’t hear the centaur at all. 

“Yes sir!” Grover sits down with trepidation, and honestly Percy knows the feeling. Sitting down as well, Percy tries to remember the rules of pinochle. It’s been a while since he’s had the free time to play card games, excluding his time at Yancy, but back there no one but Grover wanted to play with him anyway.

“You going to bid or not, kid?” Looking at his cards, Percy chose to bid. He thinks he’s doing this right… 

"Mr. D," Grover asked timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?"

"Eh? Oh, all right."

Grover bit a huge shard out of the empty aluminum can and chewed it mournfully. Percy was used to the sound, so didn’t cringe as he had the first few times he’d heard the tearing and crunching of cheap metal. 

“Percy, just how much do you understand of your current situation?” 

Deciding to go with as much truth as he felt was safe right now, Percy replied “That I’m a demigod, and that all those Greek tales and figures are real. I Killed the Minotaur last night for killing my mom. This is a camp for demigods to train and find a safe haven from monsters, and my mom didn’t want me here because she was afraid she’d never see me again after. I don’t think she knew she’d die though, so I think that means that I’m just more likely to attract monsters for some reason and would need to stay here.” 

Chiron nodded, either staying silent to digest the information, or refocusing on the game of pinochle. In the corner of his eye, Percy saw that Mr. D had summoned a goblet of wine off-handedly, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Chiron must have thought his staring was out of curiosity or wonder, and said: 

"Mr. D offended his father a while back, took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits,” with a wink. 

“Must suck having a dad that’s also a god, and one of the most powerful ones. Like being born great at basketball but you’re dad’s still Kobe Bryant.” 

"Father loves to punish me,” Mr. D whined, “The first time, Prohibition. Ghastly! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time - well, she really was pretty, and I couldn't stay away - the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you. 'Be a better influence,' he told me. 'Work with youths rather than tearing them down.' Ha.' Absolutely unfair." 

He turned back to his card game. "I believe I win."

"Not quite, Mr. D," Chiron said. He set down a straight, tallied the points, and said, "The game goes to me."

Mr. D just sighed through his nose, used to being beaten by the Centaur. He got up, and Grover rose, too.

"I'm tired," Mr. D said. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk,  _ again, _ about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment."

Grover's face beaded with sweat. "Y-yes, sir."

Mr. D turned to me. "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson. And mind your manners." He swept into the farmhouse, Grover following miserably.

Turning to Chiro, Percy asked “Grover gonna be alright being alone with that guy? Doesn’t seem the friendly type to me.”

Chiron nodded, though he looked a bit troubled. "Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been ... ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus."

Percy nodded seriously. “I can’t imagine being banned from my home for so long. Guess I can sympathize a little.” 

Finally rising from his seat as well, he tried to look adequately surprised when Chiron rose from his wheelchair to his full half-horse form. It’d actually been more awkward looking down at the man the up, all this time. He kept glancing way over the man’s head when he spoke, expecting the voice to be coming from several feet higher. 

"What a relief," the centaur said. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy Jackson. Let's meet the other campers."

Maybe just for comfort, Percy held the Minotaur horn in his hands as they walked through camp, Chiron a polite and thorough tour-guide. Not that he needed one - he knew this place like the back of his hand. The pathways and trees like his very veins, the buildings his bones. 

Some kids pointed and stared, whispers of “That’s  _ him, _ ” “Look at him!” Unlike some things his discomfort with the situation was just the same as the first time around. Well, it was less performance-anxiety and more just a distaste for staring and pointing in his direction. He’d lived fifteen years of it, even as an adult it hadn’t stopped; young half-bloods pointing at him and looking on in awe going “That’s Percy Jackson!” every corner he turned. Eventually he’d stopped visiting camp as often. 

Looking back to the cabin, something drew Percy’s eyes to one of the window curtains on the fourth floor. Right, the Oracle. He’d have to see her soon, he knew. Lovely. 

They walked through the strawberry fields, the centaur explaining about how the camp sold them to restaurants and Mount Olympus, as they were easy to harvest and grew rapidly with the presence of Mr. D. Watching on as a satyr played an upbeat tune to lead bugs away from the strawberries, Percy wondered if Gover was done getting chewed out yet or not. 

Moving on to the forest, Percy felt a sense of home. This is where he belonged - not in the woods, per se, but on the battlefield. As much as he’d wished for peace all his life, he just couldn’t deny the rush that the thrill of battle gave him. 

"The woods are stocked, if you care to try your luck, but go armed.” Chiron mentioned idly. 

“Stocked with what?” He’d never gotten a clear answer on that the first time. Monsters? Weapons? 

"You'll see. Capture the flag is Friday night. Do you have your own sword and shield?" 

“I have Anaklusmos, but I don’t have a shield yet. Don’t think it’s really my style anyway, just a sword and some armor will be fine.”

“I see… we’ll have to visit the armory later. I think a size five will do.”

Continuing their tour, eventually they landed at the mess hall, and the amphitheatre nor far away. He was already tempted to start breaking meal rules and sitting at whatever damn table he wanted, because who your godly parent was shouldn’t determine who your friends are. He’d have to convince Annabeth to sit with him at the Herme’s table sometime, since he knew she wouldn’t go within ten feet of the Poseidon table until well into their friendship. 

Finally they ended at the cabins. Wisely, he kept a wide berth from the Big Three and Hera’s cabin this time. All in due time. He tried to stay away from the Ares cabin too, but they passed by and Clarisse zeroed in on him anyways. She didn’t say anything with Chiron standing right there, but he knew it was a near thing. He could actually understand her feelings, sorta - never having a meaningful quest, and suddenly some little kid comes along and kills an A class monster on his own and takes all the attention? He’d be a little pissed too. Maybe not “try to swirlie the kid in a public bathroom” pissed, but still. 

Annabeth was waiting for them in front of cabin eleven, reading some book or another, likely written in ancient Greek. 

"Annabeth," Chiron said, "I have masters' archery class at noon. Would you take Percy from here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Cabin eleven," Chiron said, unnecessarily gesturing to the doorway. "Make yourself at home."

Chiron couldn’t enter the cabin because of his height, obviously, but the campers inside all stood and bowed respectively from within, before he turned a left with a brief goodbye and a wave. 

"Well?" Annabeth prompted. "Go on."

So he did. Percy stepped in, and tried to stand straight and look about as intimidating as a twelve year old could look. It was a den of thieves, after all. 

“Percy Jackson, meet cabin eleven,” Annabeth announced. 

“Regular or undetermined?” Someone shouted. 

“Undetermined,” he said, getting a chorus of groans in response. 

"Now, now, campers. That's what we're here for. Welcome, Percy. You can have that spot on the floor, right over there,” Luke-fucking-Castellen said with a smirk.

“This is Luke, he’ll be your counselor for now,” Annabeth chimed in, he supposes, helpfully. 

“For now. Right. Until I’m determined. How long do you think that’ll take, dad?” The last part he said with a rueful glare up at the sky, which gained him a few chuckles, and Annabeth pulled him outside. 

“Are you seriously it?” 

“What do you mean? Am I what?”

“The one from the prophecy. You really don’t seem like much.”

“No idea what prophecy you’re talking about, wise girl.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Well you’re a daughter of Athena aren’t you? Even if you weren’t I can tell you’re pretty smart. You know what you’re doing, you just haven’t gotten the chance to prove that yet.” 

“...Thanks, I guess. Not sure what praise from you is worth, though.” 

Like a hell hound, it was then that Clarisse chose to stick her snout into something that was none of her business and shouted, "Well! A newbie!"

"Clarisse," Annabeth sighed. "Why don't you go polish your spear or something?"

"Sure, Miss Princess," the big girl said. "So I can run you through with it Friday night."

''Erre es korakas!" Annabeth said, “you don’t stand a chance!” 

‘Got to the crows!’ ever the clever insult, wise girl. Of course, Percy knew that is was a curse and generally more insulting spoken in Greek than English, but he just couldn’t help making fun of some of the dumb stuff people would say in Greek with no reguard for it’s translations. 

"We'll pulverize you," Clarisse said, but her eye twitched, ever the secretly unconfident one. Turning to Percy, she said "Who's this little runt?"

"Percy Jackson," Annabeth said, "meet Clarisse, Daughter of Ares."

“Ah, the god of War. Explains the bad smell.” 

Clarisse growled “We have an initiation ceremony for newbies like you, Prissy.”

“It’s Percy. You should remember it, considering I’ll kick your ass if you touch me.” 

"Oh really? Come on, just let me show you."

"Clarisse—" Annabeth tried to say.

"Stay out of it, wise girl."

...Right. He usually forgot where he’d gotten that nickname from originally. He liked to think it was spoken like a term of endearment coming from him, though.

Clarisse didn’t drag him to the stalls this time, he followed willingly, knowing she couldn’t force his head down a toilet if her life depended on it. Tough daughter of Ares or not, no one stands a chance against Poseidon anywhere near running water. As they stepped in, she did grab his collar, which he allowed just for the satisfaction of knowing what would come next. 

"Like he's 'Big Three' material," Clarisse said as she pushed me toward one of the toilets.

"Yeah, right. Minotaur probably fell over laughing, he was so stupid looking."

Her friends snickered.

Annabeth stood in the corner, watching through her fingers.

Letting himself get shoved to the floor, he used the momentum to duck even further down, so that Clarisse followed him down, staring face-first at the toilet. He let the dam burst, giving her a face full of toilet water, as well as the cronies who’d followed her in. He made sure to leave Annabeth untouched, or tried to. She might get some on her shoes, it was kinda hard to tell exactly where she was from this position. 

Percy stood up, finally looking Annabeth in the eyes, ignoring Clarisse as she shouted at him from outside, where she’d been blasted. The wise girl stared at him in shock. 

“How did you…” 

“I’m unclaimed, never said I didn’t know who my godly parent was. Not my fault if he doesn’t want to acknowledge me,” he said with a shrug. 

Outside, Clarisse and her friends were sprawled in the mud, and a bunch of other campers had gathered around to gawk. Clarisse's hair was flattened across her face, and her camouflage jacket was sopping and she smelled like sewage. She gave him a look of absolute hatred. "You are dead, new boy. You are totally dead."

“Sure you wanna be opening your mouth right now? There’s lots more toilet water, you know.” 

Her friends had to drag Clarisse away before she did anything rash, and Percy was thankful for that. He didn’t want to have to draw Riptide on a camper on his first day at camp. 

Annabeth still looked a bit out of it, so he said “Hey, wise girl. Talk to me. What’re you thinking?”

“I'm thinking,” she replied slowly, “that I want you on my team for capture the flag.”


	5. Chapter 4: Sacrifices and Capture the Flag

Annabeth led him around the rest of camp, showing off some of the places Chiron hadn’t gotten to earlier like the forges and climbing wall. There were some whispers about toilet water from all around, but that’s to be expected at Camp Half-Blood. Rumors here spread like Greek Fire. 

This time when they get down to the docks, Annabeth doesn’t storm off, angry and soaked in toilet water, (man is he glad he dodged that bullet) but stands with him quietly, contemplating the sea. He knows what she’s probably going to say - something about how kids of Athena shouldn’t hang out with kids of Poesideon, and how as soon as he was dead to her, bla bla bla… 

“Are you really… his son? That’s not supposed to be possible.” 

“What, you want me to prove it? No toilet water this time, promise.”

“I…” she shakes her head, “no, forget about it.”

After a few moments of silence, the two of them just staring at the sea and maybe hoping for answers beneath the waves, Annabeth speaks again. 

“I’ve got some training to do before dinner. You need to see the Oracle, Percy.”

“Yeah, guess I was kinda hoping I could get out of that part of questing.”

“Dinner’s at seven thirty, just follow your cabin to the mess hall and sit with them.”

“Thanks, wise girl.” 

A pair of Naiads waved and giggled at him from a little ways away, and Annabeth scoffed as she turned to go train, presumably. He was getting hungry, and knew dinner would be pretty soon anyways, so he sat down on the dock and took off his shoes and socks. There wasn’t time for him to go for a real swim, right now, but he could reconnect with the sea a little bit. For all that the waves felt like the gentle caress of a mother, he knew that it was much more than that; it was a restrained strength, seemingly harmless on the surface until dear old dad got upset about something and the water rushed in to crush and choke and freeze. 

He could do the same, Percy knew. Not on the same catastrophic scale that his father could, but he could wreck a small city if he wanted. It’s times like this (is time travel really something he can think about so casually?) that he’s glad one’s godly powers are more about mental discipline and understanding how they work than physical strength. Gods, it’s going to take months just to build up any semblance of muscle, and he hasn’t even had his growth spurt yet. Annabeth practically towers over him, now - curse girls for always growing faster. At least when they were the same height she couldn’t loom over him…

Stomach growling at the time he’s wasting here instead of rushing back to his cabin, Percy pulls his feet (perfectly dry) out of the water to get his socks and shoes back on. He’s glad he never really got the chance to set his bag down back at cabin eleven, even if he doesn’t really want to carry his backpack with him everywhere he knows he’ll have to find away until after the capture the flag game. That is, as long as Poseidon chooses to claim him at the same time, again - maybe he’ll lead Clarisse to the river and make the water rush up to drown her. That’ll make it pretty much impossible for his dad to deny Percy’s heritage. 

Stepping inside the Hermes cabin, Luke came up to him holding a sleeping back. That stupid mischieveious smile and scar runningup his face - Percy could strangle him right now. If that wouldn’t get him kicked out of camp and make Annabeth very upset. For her, he might just try and convince Luke to not try and destroy the gods. Not that it’d work, but he could try. 

"Found you a sleeping bag," he said. "And here, I stole you some toiletries from the camp store."

“Thanks,” Percy replied. 

“Good first day at camp so far?” 

“I guess. I mean, I know I’m supposed to be here and everything, I just can’t help but feel like I’m in the wrong cabin is all.”

“Yeah, you don’t really look like a kid of Hermes,” Luke replied, pulling out a switchblade and flicking it open to scrape the bottom of his shoe. 

“Like you.” 

“Yup. God of messengers, medicine, travellers, anyone who used the roads. It’s why you’re stuck with us until you’re claimed.”

“You ever meet your dad?” He knows the answer, of course, but it feels important to ask. 

“Once,” Luke said, with no particular inflection to it. “Don't worry about it, Percy. The campers here, they're mostly good people. After all, we're extended family, right? We take care of each other."

“Right.”

“Alright, cabin eleven, fall in!” Luke yelled, directed to the rest of the cabin, now. 

The twenty or so residents of Hermes’s cabin fell in line in order of seniority; Percy gracefully took his place dead last. It was fine, Luke and everyone else would see the pecking order eventually. Not that he cares about being the newbie, he just doesn’t want anyone to think he’s useless or powerless just because he’s new and unclaimed. 

Nymphs and Naiads joined the cabins marching up to the mess hall, some coming straight out of the trees or surfacing from the pond as if they  _ were _ the water within. He really, really missed all of this. Something about being a camper over a counselor was so much more thrilling. It provided a sense of camaraderie with everyone who wasn’t out to gut him. 

Everyone was chattering and laughing amongst their own cabins as they found their seats. Finally, Chiron pounded his hoof against the marble floor of the pavilion, and everybody fell silent. He raised a glass. "To the gods!"

Everybody else raised their glasses. "To the gods!"

Deciding to indulge in a little more nostalgia, he whispered a request for Blue Cherry Coke to his glass, before filling his plate - adding a little more than what he’d normally eat, of course. Standing up alongside the rest of his cabin up to the burning plinth in the center of the mess hall. Scraping a fat brisket into the fire, he mumbled a brief and fairly ambiguous prayer to his father. 

Mr. D got up with a huge sigh. "Yes, I suppose I'd better say hello to all you brats. Well, hello. Our activities director, Chiron, says the next capture the flag is Friday. Cabin five presently holds the laurels."

A bunch of ugly cheering rose from the Ares table.

"Personally," Mr. D continued, "I couldn't care less, but congratulations. Also, I should tell you that we have a new camper today. Peter Johnson."

Chiron murmured something.

"Er, Percy Jackson," Mr. D corrected. "That's right. Hurrah, and all that. Now run along to your silly campfire. Go on."

Everyone cheered and headed down to the ampitheatre, where the Apollo cabin lead a sing-along. It felt great to be back home again like this, even with the knowledge that his mom was in the Underworld and Smelly Gabe was alive and probably just fine. He wanted to rush downstairs and ask his uncle to give Sally back to him now, offer to get his helmet back or whatever else he wanted in exchange, before finding Ares and kicking his ass to get the bolt back. But he couldn’t do it all alone. He needed to do this the normal way, through a legit quest - or he’d just get blacklisted by everyone in the mortal and immortal worlds, knowing his luck. 

He’d just do things the same way he did the first time, but better. And hopefully faster. Give Annabeth her quest and Grover a chance to prove himself, send Medusa’s head to Smelly Gabe at his apartment and turn him into an ugly statue. The works. 

As everyone made their way back to their cabins for lights out, he felt a weight settle itself on his shoulders, knowing what lay ahead, and all the work he'd have to do. Settling into his sleeping back with a firm arm wrapped around his bag to deter thieves in the middle of the night, Percy let himself fall into a dreamless sleep. 

The text a few days passed in a bit of a blur. He had lessons in Greek with Annabeth, who seemed content with his company and talking about some of the ancient tales he knew were her favorite. Chiron took him around the camp looking for outdoor activities he’d be good at - of course he still sucked at archery, and wrestling was never really his thing either. He could run decently enough in footracing, but he hadn’t built up the stamina for it yet. 

Percy knew that the counselors and Chiron were puzzled by him - he didn’t excel at really any of the activities they’d thrown at him besides canoeing. He wasn’t a metalworker, he was no good with a bow and arrow, his green thumb was more of a black thumb for all that he could keep anything alive. Even a cactus would die under his care, he knew. It was almost funny, watching them all scramble to try and figure out who his dad was - really, all they had to go on was that his godly parent was his dad. 

It was Thursday when he had his first sword-fighting lesson. By far it was the activity he was most excited about, because he’d finally get to show off some of his skills. He didn’t take a sword from the armoury, but rather pulled Riptide from his pocket and uncapped it, letting the celestial bronze blade glint in the sunlight. The display didn’t surprise the other campers as much as he’d hoped it would, but that was fine. He hacked a couple straw dummies to pieces and waited for a chance to duel someone - that’s where he’d really shine. 

Sure enough, when they moved on to dueling in pairs, Luke announced that he’d be Percy’s partner, because he was new. 

"Good luck," one of the campers snorted. "Luke's the best swordsman in the last three hundred years."

Yeah, right. 

“Okay everybody, circle up! I wanna give you all a little demo.” 

The Hermes kids all circled around, sneering and clearly excited to watch him get pummeled. He knew that he couldn't be  _ too  _ good, just needed to show off some “raw talent” and make everyone quit laughing it up. 

"This is difficult," Luke stressed. "I've had it used against me. No laughing at Percy, now. Most swordsmen have to work years to master this technique."

Luke demonstrated the move on him in slow motion. Sure enough, the sword clattered out of his hand.

"Now in real time," he said, Percy retrieved his weapon. "We keep sparring until one of us pulls it off. Ready, Percy?"

Nodding, Percy let Luke come to him - the guy was obviously slowing down his movements. His first mistake today. His second was trying the disarming technique again, which Percy deflected easily, before turning around and doing the exact same move - putting all of his weight into a downwards strike and following through, sending Luke's blade clattering to the ground. It was just natural to move his blade up to rest against his opponent’s neck afterwards. 

Everyone went silent. Trying to look abashed, Percy smiled a little and stepped back, letting Riptide's tip fall to face the ground. 

“Ah, sorry.” 

"Sorry?" Luke’s scarred face broke into a grin. "By the gods, Percy, why are you sorry? Show me that again!"

And he did, gladly - Luke moved a little faster this time, and put some more strength into his blows, but Percy disarmed him just as easily and once again let Riptide’s blade rest against the other boy’s neck. 

Luke asked him to show the move again, again, half a dozen times - with the end of each round, the campers surrounding them became more and more excited, and even cheered for Percy a little bit. It was fun, and he wasn’t even upset with how sore he knew he’d be later - the familiar tingling in his arms, the shake in his legs, the sweat rolling down his face. It was all familiar, and it felt amazing after not being able to fight anyone of merit for so long. New generations had come along and taken on the Big Quests, leaving him to petty spars and dispatching low-rank monsters for the past few years before his death. 

The counselor was clearly elated with Percy’s apparent “natural talent”, but let the camper rest after a few rounds to continue with the lesson normally. He looked a little winded, even, which made Percy feel proud. Muscle mass and height be damned, he still had it. 

Friday afternoon, he was sitting with Grover at the lake after a day on the climbing wall. Some of his hairs were singed and his shir had some pockmarks in it, but otherwise Percy was having the time of his life. 

Eventually he decided to just get it out of the way and ask Grover how the conversation with Mr. D had gone. 

His face turned a sickly shade of yellow.

"Fine," he said. "Just great."

"So your career's still on track?"

Grover glanced at him nervously. "Chiron t-told you I want a searcher's license?"

“Ah, not exactly… but don’t most Satyrs want one?” 

Grover sighed and nodded, looking down at the naiads. "Mr. D suspended judgment. He said I hadn't failed or succeeded with you yet, so our fates were still tied together. If you got a quest and I went along to protect you, and we both came back alive, then maybe he'd consider the job complete."

“Oh. Well that’s easy, I’ll just take you on my first quest, and you can bring me back safe and sound, yeah?”

"Blaa-ha-ha! He might as well have transferred me to stable-cleaning duty. The chances of you getting a quest... and even if you did, why would you want me along?"

"Of course I'd want you along, Grover, you’re my best friend."

Grover looked at him hopefully, before shaking his head and looking miserably into the water, "Basket-weaving ... Must be nice to have a useful skill."

Percy knew there wasn’t much he could do to assure his friend of his talents with just words, so he let it go and just sat quietly, hoping to provide some comfort that way. 

“Hey, Grover… Clarisse mentioned something about me being Big Three material. Any idea what that’s about?” With capture the flag going on later tonight, he might as well start sewing the seeds of the idea into their heads, in case dad doesn’t claim him outright tonight. 

“Ah, well, I don’t know about that. You know who the Big Three are, right?”

“Yeah. Zeus, Poseidon and Hades.”

Grover shifted his hooves uncomfortably. "Yes. Well, about bout sixty years ago, after World War II, the Big Three agreed they wouldn't sire any more heroes. Their children were just too powerful. They were affecting the course of human events too much, causing too much carnage. World War II, you know, that was basically a fight between the sons of Zeus and Poseidon on one side, and the sons of Hades on the other. The winning side, Zeus and Poseidon, made Hades swear an oath with them: no more affairs with mortal women. They all swore on the River Styx."

Thunder boomed.

"But are we sure they all kept their promise?” Percy suggested lightly. 

Grover’s face darkened and he looked away. 

"Seventeen years ago, Zeus fell off the wagon. There was this TV starlet with a big fluffy eighties hairdo—he just couldn't help himself. When their child was born, a little girl named Thalia .. . well, the River Styx is serious about promises. Zeus himself got off easy because he's immortal, but he brought a terrible fate on his daughter."

“The other gods weren’t happy.” 

The satyr nodded, “When Hades found out about the girl, he wasn't too happy about Zeus breaking his oath. Hades let the worst monsters out of Tartarus to torment Thalia. A satyr was assigned to be her keeper when she was twelve, but there was nothing he could do. He tried to escort her here with a couple of other half-bloods she'd befriended. They almost made it. They got all the way to the top of that hill."

He pointed across the valley, to the pine tree that Percy knew all too well, "All three Kindly Ones were after them, along with a horde of hellhounds. They were about to be overrun when Thalia told her satyr to take the other two half-bloods to safety while she held off the monsters. She was wounded and tired, and she didn't want to live like a hunted animal. The satyr didn't want to leave her, but he couldn't change her mind, and he had to protect the others. So Thalia made her final stand alone, at the top of that hill. As she died, Zeus took pity on her. He turned her into that pine tree. Her spirit still helps protect the borders of the valley. That's why the hill is called Half-Blood Hill."

Percy wisely chose not to comment that he knew Grover was the satyr in that story. His friend was guilty enough as is. Instead he chose to steer the conversation back towards him and his godly parent. 

“So ... a satyr is always assigned to guard a demigod?"

Grover shrugged. "Not always. We go undercover to a lot of schools. We try to sniff out the half-bloods who have the makings of great heroes. If we find one with a very strong aura, like a child of the Big Three, we alert Chiron. He tries to keep an eye on them, since they could cause really huge problems."

"And you found me. Chiron said you thought I might be something special."

Grover looked trapped. "I didn't... Oh, listen, don't think like that. If you were—you know—you'd never ever be allowed a quest, and I'd never get my license. You're probably a child of Hermes. Or maybe even one of the minor gods, like Nemesis, the god of revenge. Don't worry, okay?"

“Sure, man.” 

That night, it was time for capture the flag. When the dinner plates had all been cleared away, a conch horn sounded and everyone rushed to their respective tables. 

Campers yelled and cheered as Annabeth and two of her siblings ran into the pavilion carrying a silk banner. It was about ten feet long, glistening gray, with a painting of a barn owl above an olive tree. From the opposite side of the pavilion, Clarisse and her buddies ran in with another banner, of identical size, but gaudy red, painted with a bloody spear and a boar's head.

Luke leaned over and looked at Percy conspiratorially, whispering “we’ve made a temporary alliance with Athena. We’ll be capturing Ares’s flag tonight, and  _ you’re  _ going to help.”

“Right,” Percy nodded seriously. 

The Teams were announced - Athena was teamed with Apollo and Hermes, the largest cabins in camp. Ares had allied themselves with everybody else: Dionysus, Demeter, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus; they probably traded away chores and stuff for all that support, but he didn’t mind. That just made this more fun. 

Chiron hammered his hoof on the marble.

"Heroes!" he announced. "You know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!"

He spread his hands, and the tables were suddenly covered with equipment: helmets, bronze swords, spears, oxhide shields coated in metal. Percy looked to Luke. 

“Do I have to grab one? I already have Anaklusmos.” 

“Nah, if you have a weapon already, just take these-” he passed over a large shield and helmet with a blue horsehair plume on top, marking him as an ally of Athena for the night, “-Chiron thought this would fit. You’re on border patrol.” 

Annabeth yelled, "Blue team, forward!"

Blue team cheered and shook their swords and followed her down the path to the south woods. The red team yelled taunts at us as they headed off toward the north.

He managed to catch up with Annabeth, even lugging around the snow-board like shield, that easily weighed as much as him, probably more. 

“Hey wise girl. So what’s the plan?”

"Just watch Clarisse's spear," she said. "You don't want that thing touching you. Otherwise, don't worry. We'll take the banner from Ares. Has Luke given you your job?"

"Border patrol. Kinda boring for my first game, don’t you think?”

“Key words: first game. You haven’t done this before, so just stand by the creek and keep the red team away. I’m sure you can work with that, right, toilet man?”

He grinned. Of course, that’s why she’d placed him there the first time around all those years ago. She’d thought he was the son of Poesidon, and now she had pretty much solid proof, if not a direct admission from him. 

“Right, by the creek. Got it,” he winked, walking off to find his place. 

He felt a little left out for a few minutes, as he heard the horn blow in the distance and the sounds of fighting were so faint he could barely hear them. But then he could hear the sound of about half a dozen kids in heavy armor charging towards him through the brush and he laughed. Dropping the shield to the ground in front of him and stepping into the creek, he felt powerful. The water lapping over his ankles gave him strength, and he readied into a battle stance as the five Ares kids charged him. 

Clarisse was leading the pack, obviously, and he dogged her spear - seriously, what kind of idiot brought an electric weapon into a  _ creek? _ One of the red team brought their sword down in a large overhead strike, easy enough to duck under and smash the hilt of Riptide against their helmet hard enough to take them out of the fight. Another came in too fast for him to dodge, and the force behind the strike as he blocked it made his arm feel numb. Stupid muscly Ares kids. He might go a little farther if there wasn’t a no-maiming rule, and they were able to heal instantly in water like he could. 

The song and dance went like that for another minute or two, until it was just him, Clarisse, and one Ares kid who looked pretty ragged. The two charged him at once, and while the adrenaline running through him and energizing feeling of water against his skin had held him together until now, he didn’t have the energy to dodge or block both of them. So he avoided the more dangerous, electrified weapon and took the butt of a sword to his sternum, knocking the wind out of him. 

Clarisse had the other kid grab a handful of his hair, and she slashed his sword arm with her stupi, electrified spear. He willed the creek to not heal him too quickly, he wanted to get the drop on them. For now, he let Riptide fall into the water, and stared hatefully into Clarisse’s eyes. 

Waiting until she was just inches away from him, breathing nasty breath into his face, he head-butted her, helmet to-helmet. It hurt like hell, but he used the dirtraction to snatch up Riptide with his newly-healed arm and smashed its hilt against the hand holding him by the hair, making the Ares kid howl in pain and step back. 

Nearby, he heard shouting and cheering, as Luke came running by holding a crimson flag in his hands, flanked by some teammates covering his retreat.

"A trick!" Clarisse shouted. "It was a trick." 

They staggered after Luke, but it was too late. Everybody converged on the creek as Luke ran across into friendly territory. Our side exploded into cheers. The red banner shimmered and turned to silver. The boar and spear were replaced with a huge caduceus, the symbol of cabin eleven. Everybody on the blue team picked up Luke and started carrying him around on their shoulders. Chiron cantered out from the woods and blew the conch horn.

The game was over. Blue team won. 

Percy was elated, and two seconds away from joining the celebrations, before remembering what came next. Before he could get too anxious, Annabeth’s voice came from behind him, saying “Not bad, hero,” but she wasn’t there. 

Then she took off her invisibility cap, the air shimmering around her before continuing, "Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?"

He shrugged, “I’m a natural. Just ask Luke.” 

She smirked, before looking down at his arm, and paused. 

“It’s really gone,” she whispered. 

Percy looked at his arm, where a considerable slash/burn had previously been, but was now gone. 

“Yeah, but watch this bullcrap-” he grumbled, stepping out of the creek. As soon as he did, he collapsed on one knee, panting. 

Annabeth gasped and rushed forward, pulling him back towards the water. 

“Don’t get out yet, dummy! You’re still hurt.”

Just as he stood again, a howl tore through the forest, and Chiron called for everyone to stand ready, and asked for his bow. A hellhound the size of a rhino appeared, all sharp teeth and matted fur. It was looking straight at him, and charged. 

Taking a stance, Percy readied himself for the pain of a lifetime, as the thing crashed into him at lightspeed. He’d already pushed Riptide through the beast’s neck, and he was pretty sure at least a dozen arrows were lodged in the thing’s back. Pushing it off of him with Annabeth’s help, they all watched as it’s body melted into the shadows. 

_ "Di immortales!" _ Annabeth said. "That's a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don't ... they're not supposed to ..."

"Someone summoned it," Chiron said. "Someone inside the camp."

Luke came over, the banner in his hand forgotten, his moment of glory gone.

Clarisse yelled, "It's all Percy's fault! Percy summoned it!"

"Be quiet, child," Chiron told her.

Annabeth looked to him, “You’re wounded. Get back in the water, Percy.”

“Yeah yeah, give me a hand?” he replied, dazed. 

Putting his arm over her shoulders, Annabeth helped him back into the water, where he fell onto his back and just let the water rush past him as the wound on his chest closed up, until it was like it was never there in the first place. The campers gasped, and Chiron watched on grimly. 

A luminescent green trident appeared over his head, and Chiron announced "It is determined.”

All around him, campers started kneeling, even the Ares cabin, though they didn't look happy about it.

“Finally,” Percy mumbled, looking apologetically at Annabeth, whose face was a carefully blank mask. 

"Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God.”

  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6: Prophecies are Really Something

The next morning, he was moved to cabin three. It was nice - sure, the Hermes cabin meant he had friends, but it just didn’t feel quite right. He knew where he belonged, and this was it. Sans one cyclops, who he would hopefully get to bring home next year. Tyson deserved a home too, and Percy missed his brother, dammit. Being the sole occupant of a cabin meant he got to pick his own activities and got his own table at meals, and it’d be lonely, but he was hoping Annabeth and him would be better friends this time around.

Setting his things near a familiar bunk, Percy figured he might as well move some things around while he had the time. Everyone was still tense after the hellhound incident the other night, so it’d be better to stay out of the public as much as he could for now. So he set about pushing some of the bunks into more familiar positions, and opening all the curtains. The fountain and it’s drachmas remain untouched, for now - never know when you might need to make a call from home. 

It was noon by the time he left his babin, mainly for lunch. Everyone steered clear of him, and he ate quietly at his own table. Recently he’d chosen to make a basic leather necklace with some meaningless charms on it - he’d kept reaching for his camp necklace after being back for long enough and it looked weird. So now he had something to fiddle with as he ate. Maybe he should get some bracelets or piercings, too - part of him just wanted to do these things because they were cool, but the other part just wanted to put distance between the boy he used to be and who he was now. Technically he wasn’t a man yet, but it wasn’t like anyone at camp could stop him from piercing his ears at the Hephestus cabin. 

Of course he wouldn’t go for anything as crazy as a tattoo, though it did feel weird to look at his blank forearm and back in the mirror. Besides his SPQR tattoo, he and Annabeth had gotten ones together when they were in college - an owl resting just between her shoulder blades, and a trident taking up most of his back. They were parts of him, and it sucked to have those parts taken away like that, even if it meant he got a second chance at life like this. 

His training sessions with Luke became one-on-one, now that everyone else was too scared to fight him, but some still came to watch him fight the counselor after having watched him beat Luke that first time. The man pushed Percy much harder now, claiming it was because he saw potential in him and just wanted to teach him everything he could, but Percy knew the guy just liked having a sparring partner that gave him a good challenge. 

"Right, now let's try that viper-beheading strike again. Fifty more repetitions, then we can break for a bit.”

Annabeth still taught him Greek, but seemed distant and unsure about their friendship. She spent more time muttering about plans, and “stupid sons of Poesidon”, than actually teaching him anything. That was fine, as long as she still hung out with him and didn’t run away like everyone else. Even Clarisse backed off, murderous intent pinning him from a distance. 

He hadn’t expected the newspaper stapled to his cabin door, but that was mostly because he’d forgotten about its existence in the first place. 

BOY AND MOTHER STILL MISSING AFTER

FREAK CAR ACCIDENT 

BY EILEEN SMYTHE

_Sally Jackson and son Percy are still missing one week after their mysterious disappearance. The family's badly burned '78 Camaro was discovered last Saturday on a north Long Island road with the roof ripped off and the front axle broken. The car had flipped and skidded for several hundred feet before exploding._

_Mother and son had gone for a weekend vacation to Montauk, but left hastily, under mysterious circumstances. Small traces of blood were found in the car and near the scene of the wreck, but there were no other signs of the missing Jacksons. Residents in the rural area reported seeing nothing unusual around the time of the accident._

_Ms. Jackson's husband, Gabe Ugliano, claims that his stepson, Percy Jackson, is a troubled child who has been kicked out of numerous boarding schools and has expressed violent tendencies in the past. Police would not say whether son Percy is a suspect in his mother's disappearance, but they have not ruled out foul play. Below are recent pictures of Sally Jackson and Percy. Police urge anyone with information to call the following toll-free crime-stoppers hotline._

The phone number was circled in black marker. If that was supposed to be some sort of threat, he wasn’t intimidated; phones and electronic devices weren’t allowed at camp. And they wouldn’t be for several more years, until Leo came to camp and made ones that wouldn’t attract monsters. Even if they’d gotten their hands on a phone outside of camp, made the call, and gotten back without being eaten, police wouldn’t be able to cross the border. 

Somehow his dream about Zeus and Poesidon fighting over the master bolt was even more terrifying when he knew who they were and what they were fighting over. The destruction they were causing, for no reason - they were blaming the wrong person! 

He woke up in a cold sweat to the sound of a distant thunder and knocking on the cabin door. Groggily, he sat up and let them in. It was Grover, of course. 

“Mr. D wants to see you.”

"Why?"

"He wants to kill... I mean, I'd better let him tell you."

Getting dressed and mentally willing himself to have the energy to deal with this, Percy followed Grover outside. There was a huge storm brewing overhead - he knew it wouldn’t rain just yet, but still. It wasn’t a welcoming sight. 

At the volleyball pit, the kids from Apollo's cabin were playing a morning game against the satyrs. Dionysus's twins were walking around in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow. Everybody was going about their normal business, but they looked tense. They kept their eyes on the storm.

He and Grover walked up to the front porch of the Big House. Dionysus sat at the pinochle table in his tiger-striped Hawaiian shirt with his Diet Coke, just as he had on my first day. Chiron sat across the table in his fake wheelchair. They were playing against invisible opponents--two sets of cards hovering in the air.

"Well, well," Mr. D said without looking up. "Our little celebrity."

“Mr. D.” 

"Come closer," Mr. D said. "And don't expect me to kowtow to you, mortal, just because old Barnacle-Beard is your father."

A net of lightning flashed across the clouds. Thunder shook the windows of the house.

"Blah, blah, blah," Dionysus said.

Chiron feigned interest in his pinochle cards. Grover cowered by the railing, his hooves clopping back and forth.

"If I had my way," Dionysus said, "I would cause your molecules to erupt in flames. We'd sweep up the ashes and be done with a lot of trouble. But Chiron seems to feel this would be against my mission at this cursed camp: to keep you little brats safe from harm."

"Spontaneous combustion is a form of harm, Mr. D," Chiron put in.

"Nonsense," Dionysus said. "Boy wouldn't feel a thing. Nevertheless, I've agreed to restrain

myself I'm thinking of turning you into a dolphin instead, sending you back to your father."

"Mr. D—" Chiron warned.

"Oh, all right," Dionysus relented. "There's one more option. But it's deadly foolishness."

Dionysus rose, and the invisible players' cards dropped to the table. "I'm off to Olympus for the emergency meeting. If the boy is still here when I get back, I'll turn him into an Atlantic bottlenose. Do you understand? And Perseus Jackson, if you're at all smart, you'll see that's a much more sensible choice than what Chiron feels you must do."

Dionysus picked up a playing card, twisted it, and it became a plastic rectangle. Probably a one-time allowance card into Olympus - he was still forbidden, but as a god he was needed at an emergency meeting of all gods, of course. He disappeared, leaving behind the smell of freshly-pressed grapes.

Chiron smiled at me, but he looked tired and strained. "Sit, Percy, please. And Grover."

They did.

Chiron laid his cards on the table, a winning hand he hadn't gotten to use.

"Tell me, Percy," he said. "What did you make of the hellhound?"

He shrugged, “It wasn’t just a hellhound. I probably could have handled it if I was more prepared, but as I was I'd've been ripped to shreds without your help. Thanks, by the way. For shooting it.”

“It was simply my duty. You’ll meet much worse before you’re done, Percy.”

“Done.. with my quest, you mean.”

“Yes, do you choose to accept it?”

“Of course. Someone has to prove my dad’s innocence, right?”

Chiron looked at him out of the corner of his eyes. 

“How do you know your father is being prosecuted?”

“The weather has been a bit crazy ever since Christmas - like the sky is fighting the sea. I’ve also been having dreams. Zeus thinks Poesidon took something of his, and I have to get it back to prove he didn’t; that sound about right?”

"I knew it," Grover said.

"Hush, satyr," Chiron ordered.

"But it is his quest!" Grover's eyes were bright with excitement. "It must be!"

"Only the Oracle can determine." Chiron stroked his bristly beard. "Nevertheless, Percy, you are correct. Your father and Zeus are having their worst quarrel in centuries. They are fighting over something valuable that was stolen. To be precise: a lightning bolt."

“But not just any bolt, right? No one would go this far over something they can make so easily.” 

"Zeus's master bolt," Chiron nodded gravely. "The symbol of his power, from which all other lightning bolts are patterned. The first weapon made by the Cyclopes for the war against the Titans, the bolt that sheered the top off Mount Etna and hurled Kronos from his throne; the master bolt, which packs enough power to make mortal hydrogen bombs look like firecrackers."

“And someone was stupid enough to take it.” 

“Indeed. And according to Zeus, you would be that foolish person. During the winter solstice, at the last council of the gods, Zeus and Poseidon had an argument. The usual nonsense: 'Mother Rhea always liked you best,' Air disasters are more spectacular than sea disasters,' et cetera. Afterward, Zeus realized his master bolt was missing, taken from the throne room under his very nose. He immediately blamed Poseidon. Now, a god cannot usurp another god's symbol of power directly - that is forbidden by the most ancient of divine laws. But Zeus believes your father convinced a human hero to take it."

“Right, so Zeus has a fight with his brother and is taking it out on his nephew. Isn’t that nice.”

"Zeus has good reason to be suspicious. The forges of the Cyclopes are under the ocean, which gives Poseidon some influence over the makers of his brother's lightning. Zeus believes Poseidon has taken the master bolt, and is now secretly having the Cyclopes build an arsenal of illegal copies, which might be used to topple Zeus from his throne. The only thing Zeus wasn't sure about was which hero Poseidon used to steal the bolt. Now Poseidon has openly claimed you as his son. You were in New York over the winter holidays. You could easily have snuck into Olympus. Zeus believes he has found his thief."

“Well, ignoring the fact that i’ve never even been to Olympus,” _technically_ true, he thinks, “I guess I can see why he’d think that. But I’m still going to find whoever did take it, kick their ass, and bring it back just to prove him wrong.”

“Perhaps in not so many words, but yes Percy. That is what you will need to do, if indeed this is your quest.” 

The storm clouds, which had come to sit directly overhead rather than pass peacefully around the dome as Percy was accustomed to, had finally begun to pour rain down upon the camp.

“So, you have any idea where the bolt is?” Not with Hades, that’s for sure - but he does have business with his uncle, so he needs a reason to go there. 

“First you must see the Oracle.”

This would be fun. Not that he doesn’t respect the Oracle or anything, she’s just kinda terrifying. Grover nodded encouragingly when Percy looked over, so he just sighed and turned to Chiron.

“Alright, guess I don’t have much a choice, anyway.”

"Then it's time you consulted the Oracle," Chiron said. "Go upstairs, Percy Jackson, to the attic. When you come back down, assuming you're still sane, we will talk more."

Four flights up, he came face-to-face with a familiar green trapdoor. He really just wanted to sit up here for a while and then walk downstairs and claim he’d gotten his prophecy, but… maybe it had changed. What if the prophecy was different now, and there was some important, time-travel related forewarning he needed from the Oracle? He knows what happens when you run into a fight you don’t know enough about, and would take any advice he could get at this point. Ever since he’d come back, he’d been flying by the seat of his pants, going off of his memory of events alone. 

Of course he remembered some events clearly, just from the sherr shock he’d felt at seeing them happen, at having a whole new world exposed to him, but what about after he got the lightning bolt back? There were so many adventures and battles, he wouldn’t be able to replicate them all perfectly. But did he even want to? His main goal so far had been to save his mom, then go about business as usually, but he couldn’t save her because, in the end, everything had played out the exact same as he remembered them. So what if Percy was a better swordsman now? So what if he was a little smarter and knew some of the stuff that would happen? If he didn’t start acting more proactively about it, he wouldn’t change anything. Jason would still die young. Nico would end up alone and run away, where Percy couldn’t reach him. Bianca would die, Annabeth would feel the weight of the sky on her shoulders, all of his friends would hurt so much, and it’d be all his fault for not doing anything about it. 

He pulled down the hanging cord, and ascended the unfolded ladder to the attic. It was time to get some answers, hopefully. 

The Oracle (still dressed like a hippie, which was kinda funny) waited only a moment before speaking to him. Not out loud, since she didn’t have any voice box or lips to speak with, but he could hear her all the same. 

_I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask._

Taking a deep breath, he replied, “What is my destiny?”

A thick, foggy mist settled around him, before swirling and twisting into an image that, while familiar, had not been what he was expecting. Instead of stupid Smelly Gabe delievering his prophecy, it was Annabeth, Grover, and… his mother. 

_You shall go west, and face the god who has turned,_ Said Oracle-Grover. 

_You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely returned,_ Oracle-Annabeth spoke next.

His mother delivered the line, _You shall be betrayed by one who calls you friend._

Then, all together, they spoke: _You shall fail to save what matters most, in the end._

He sighed, realizing he’d come up here for nothing, before turning around to go - but the prophecy wasn’t done. 

Once again, they all spoke together to deliver one last line, _And your knowledge will be the meaning of your fate._

Well. _That_ was new. 

  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 6: The Quest Begins

When he made it back downstairs, Chiron and Grover were waiting for him. Chiron patiently, Grover a little less so. He looked so anxious he was ready to explode.

“Well?” The centaur questioned. 

“You shall go West, and face the god who has turned. You will find what was stolen, and see it safely returned,” some parts of the prophecy were private - at most he’d tell them about the betraying part, but he didn’t want to make them too worried.

“I knew it…” Gorver said, like he wasn’t sure if he should be overjoyed or terrified. The idea of facing a god could do that to the satyr. 

“Anything else?” Chiron asked, obviously not satisfied. 

“No, that’s pretty much it.” 

The centaur studied him. "Very well, Percy. But know this: the Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much. The truth is not always clear until events come to pass."

Obviously he knew Percy was holding something back and just trying to make him feel better. The man was too kind for his own good, sometimes. 

“So. which god do we think has turned, exactly?”

"Ah, think, Percy," Chiron said. "If Zeus and Poseidon weaken each other in a war, who stands to gain?"

Pretty much every person who doesn't like them, which is a lot? “Hades.” 

Chiron nodded. "The Lord of the Dead is the only possibility."

A scrap of aluminum dribbled out of Grover's mouth. "Whoa, wait. Wh-what?"

"A Fury came after Percy," Chiron reminded him. "She watched the young man until she was sure of his identity, then tried to kill him. Furies obey only one lord: Hades."

"Yes, but - but Hades hates all heroes," Grover protested. "Especially if he has found out Percy is a son of Poseidon... ."

"A hellhound got into the forest," Chiron continued. "Those can only be summoned from the Fields of Punishment, and it had to be summoned by someone within the camp. Hades must have a spy here. He must suspect Poseidon will try to use Percy to clear his name. Hades would very much like to kill this young half-blood before he can take on the quest."

Percy frowned, knowing his uncle really didn’t deserve to have this sort of thing pinned on him - he was kinda chill, once you got to know him. A bit distance as a dad, as Nico and Hazel would attest, but not particularly cruel or vengeful. None of the worst punishments in Tartarus were even designed by him, that was all Zeus.

"But a quest to ..." Grover swallowed. "I mean, couldn't the master bolt be in some place like Maine? Maine's very nice this time of year."

"Hades sent a minion to steal the master bolt," Chiron insisted. "He hid it in the Underworld, knowing full well that Zeus would blame Poseidon. I don't pretend to understand the Lord of the Dead's motives perfectly, or why he chose this time to start a war, but one thing is certain. Percy must go to the Underworld, find the master bolt, and reveal the truth."

“Sounds so much easier than it is, doesn’t it?” 

“I am sure you can do it, Percy. The prophecy has declared it.” 

Percy looked to Grover, who was still trembling and looking faintly nauseous. He knew his friend would come anyways, but he might as well offer the guy an out, if he really wants.

“I know I said I’d take you on my first quest, Grover, and I will if that’s what you want. But if you want to wait until I’m sent somewhere… not the Underworld, instead, I get it.” 

"Oh ..." He shifted his hooves. "No ... it's just that satyrs and underground places ... well..." He took a deep breath, then stood, brushing the shredded cards and aluminum bits off his T-shirt. "You saved my life, Percy. If ... if you're serious about wanting me along, I won't let you down."

Percy grinned. “All the way, G-man.” 

Chiron nodded to them both, “That is two fo three. One other may accompany you on this quest - and they have already volunteered, if you will accept.” 

Figuring Annabeth was probably nearby enough, he didn’t raise his voice too much to say, “You’re free to come along, wise girl, but I gotta say it’s pretty stuoid of you to volunteer for a suicide mission like this.”

"I've been waiting a long time for a quest, seaweed brain," - oh how he had missed that - "Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you're going to save the world, I'm the best person to keep you from messing up,” she said, the air shimmering as she removed her cap. 

“Sure thing, wise girl. Don’t happen to have a clever plan up your sleeves, do you?”

Her cheeks colored, but Chiron interrupted before she could say anything in reply, "Excellent. This afternoon, we can take you as far as the bus terminal in Manhattan. After that, you are on your own."

Lightning flashed. Rain poured down on the meadows that were never supposed to have violent weather.

"No time to waste," Chiron said, forebodingly. "I think you should all get packing."

It didn’t take long to pack, really. Most of his stuff was still in his backpack, anyway. There were just three changes of clothes, a toothbrush, and a bag of blue candies from his mom. No point in bringing the Minotaur’s horn, and with Riptide in his pocket there was no need for any other weapon. Armour would just get in the way and draw looks from the mortals. 

He got a hundred dollars and twenty drachmas from the camp store, and he and Annabeth both got a canteen of ambrosia and some nectar squares. Percy joked with Chiron as he was passing them over, “Got a can of seawater instead?” but didn’t get much beyond a brief, strained smile. 

Annabeth has her usual dagger and invisibility cap, but he didn’t pay attention to what was on her besides that. Her stuff was her business. And Grover had his fake feet and a bunch of snacks, essentially. There was a reed pipe that he thought was really unnecessary considering his friend’s skill with it, but he wouldn’t mention it to the guy’s face. It probably made him feel better to have it on hand, at least. 

They met Chiron in his wheelchair at the top of the hill, standing next to the camp’s head of security, Argus. 

"This is Argus," Chiron introduced. "He will drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things,’ Yeah, he couldn’t even pretend to laugh at that one. 

Before they could turn to leave for the car, Luke came running up the hill with his set of cursed flying shoes. Knowing the things would be more trouble than they’re worth, Percy hoped to nip this thing in the bud. 

"Hey!" he panted. "Glad I caught you."

Annabeth blushed, the way she always did when Luke was around.

"Just wanted to say good luck," Luke said. "And I thought ... um, maybe you could use these."

Luke handed him the shoes, before shouting  _ “Maia!”  _ causing twin pairs of wings to sprout on them. The flapped about and strained in his hands for a moment, before folding back up and disappearing. 

"Awesome!" Grover said.

Luke smiled. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days...." His expression turned sad. Well damn, now he’d almost feel bad turning the guy down. He’d feel more embarrassed about doing it in front of his friends, who were still convinced this was a good guy.

“Flying shoes, huh? Hope Zeus doesn’t strike me down for this irony, haha.” 

Luke winced at those words, “Ah, right. Well… maybe they’ll come in handy anyways,” he looked uncomfortable. "Listen, Percy… A lot of hopes are riding on you. So just… kill some monsters for me, okay?"

“Sure thing, man. See you on the other side.” 

With that, the blond said goodbye to Grover and Annabeth before leaving. His friends went on ahead of him to the White SUV waiting for them at the bottom of the hill, Annabeth still blushing from the hug Luke had parted with. 

Not really sure what to do with the shoes now as they rested in his hands, he just tucked them into his bag. Giving them to Grover again would probably be a bad idea, if they couldn’t save him from being dragged into the pit this time. Before he could join everyone at the bottom of the hill, Chiron stopped him. 

“Percy, I - I’m sorry. I wish I could have trained you better, Hercules and Jason, the both-” 

“Hey, it’s alright man. You’ve already given me a pretty handy gift,” Percy reminded him, pulling Riptide from his pocket with a grin. 

“Ah, yes… Anaklusmos. It has quite the tragic history, one we need not go into. But it will serve you well on your journey.” 

Percy nodded, returning the pen to his pocket. 

“You can never lose it, you know. It will always find its way back to your pocket, now that you are it’s master.”   
“Like I said, pretty handy. I’ll see you when we get back with the bolt, sir.” 

“Yes, now go forth Percy - embark on your quest with no hesitation in your heart.” 

When he reached the car at the bottom of the hill, Percy looked back for a moment. There he saw, under the pine tree that used to be Thalia, Chiron standing in full horse-man form, holding his bow high in salute. Just your typical summer-camp send-off by your typical centaur.

Argus drove them out of the countryside and into western Long Island. It felt weird to be on a highway again, Annabeth and Grover sitting next to him as if they were all normal carpoolers. After two weeks at Half-Blood Hill, and years before that of not owning a car just because he didn’t need one, it felt weird driving around like this - especially considering the last time he was in a car it didn’t end so well. Yeah yeah, laugh at the twenty-seven year old who never drove. If he wanted to pick Estelle up from school, he’d do it free from the awful traffic of Manhattan. 

“Well, it looks all clear so far. We’re only ten miles in, but still - looks like we’re in the clear for the moment.” 

“It’s bad luck to talk that way, seaweed brain.” 

“And it’s bad luck for  _ you  _ to be such a downer.” 

“Remind me why I volunteered to go on this quest, again?”

“Remind  _ me  _ why you’re still trying to act like you hate me just because our parents don’t get along.”

“Wh- I am not-” 

“C’mon, wise girl! Athena and Poesidon had a pissing contest and are still bitter about it, but what does that matter? Annabeth Chase, meet Percy Jackson, the weird kid who drools in his sleep, and wants to be your friend.”

He held out his hand to her, and grinned when she finally shook it. 

“Seaweed brain,” she grumbled, and he chuckled. 

“Welcome to friendship, wise girl.”

Argus smiled at them in the rearview mirror, winking at Percy with one of the blue eyes on the back of his neck. 

Traffic slowed them down in Queens. By the time they got into Manhattan it was sunset and starting to rain. Argus dropped them off at the Greyhound station on the Upper East side, not far from his apartment. There was a soggy poster with his face on it, saying HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY? And he groaned and sighed, before stepping over to discreetly take it down and throw it in the bin. He prayed no police came by. 

Argus drove away after giving them their luggage and making sure they got their bus tickets. Percy spent his time waiting for the bus to arrive staring in the direction of his old apartment. He understood, logically, why his mom had married Gabe, but he just couldn’t understand why fate had thrown such an awful man their way. Surely there had to be some other particularly human-smelling human that didn’t smoke or gamble and genuinely cares for his mom, even just for a little more than her bean dip and money?

“You know why she married him, Perce?”

He shrugged. 

"Your mom married Gabe for  _ you _ ," Grover spoke softly. "You call him 'Smelly,' but you've got no idea. The guy has this aura.... Yuck. I can smell him from here. I can smell traces of him on you, and you haven't been near him for a week."

“Makes me smell less like a demigod, right?”

“Got it in one. She only stayed with him to keep you safe - he’s probably the reason it took so long for a monster to find you. And a son of one of the Big Three? You would’ve had Kindly Ones after you by the time you were eight, Percy.”

“It makes sense. I just wish things were different, is all.” 

The rain kept coming down.

Eventually they got bored of waiting, and started a game of Hacky Sack with one of Grover’s apples. It was cut short when, a few minutes in, the apple got knocked a little too close to Grover’s mouth, and the thing disappeared in one bite. Some things never change, Percy mused. 

That made him frown. Things were still going just like they would have the first time around. He needs to do something, and soon. The most he can think of at the moment is how they could deal with a few monsters quicker, and to avoid the Lotus Hotel at all costs. That wasn’t enough, but it was a start. He’d spend some more time thinking about it on the bus… 

Of course he knows that the three Furies would catch them on the bus, reminded by watching Grover sniff the air inside suspiciously. But he’d try not to get the bus blown up this time, giving him actual time for peace after the inevitable battle. Hopefully. Watching two of the old ladies cross their legs in an X shape across the path in the front of the bus, Percy shook his head to dispel any worrying thoughts, and kept a firm grip on Riptide in his hands. Not uncapped yet, but ready to be at any moment. 

Annabeth grabbed his arm, and pointed the Furies out to him. He confirmed that he’d already noticed. 

"All three of them," Grover whimpered.  _ "Di immortales!" _

"It's okay," Annabeth said, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The three worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows."

"They don't open," Grover moaned.

"A back exit?" she suggested.

“There isn't one,” Percy murmured. 

Annabeth swore in greek. “A roof access?” 

“We’ll be going through a tunnel any minute. Just let me handle them, guys.” 

Both of them shouted at him in stage-whispers, telling him not to, that they’d find another way, but then the bus went dark and all three Furies stood up. 

"I need to use the rest-room,” The former Mrs. Dodds said.

"So do I," said the second sister.

"So do I," said the third sister.

They all started coming down the aisle.

Despite his friends' warnings, Percy prepared to get up anyways. “Wise girl, give me your hat,” he whispered. She did, looking hesitant. 

Putting on the cap and uncapping Riptide, hoping the gleam wouldn’t catch any mortal eyes for more than a moment, he stepped down the aisle to meet the monsters. They couldn’t see him, which would give him the element of surprise. Worlessly, he rushed forward at the least second and impaled Mrs. Dodds right through the chest, earning a cry of alarm from he and her sisters. She disappeared in a shower of sulphur, just like the previous times he’d encountered her, and as her sisters transformed into their Fury forms, he dispatched the second one just as quickly. 

The last sister clawed him across the face before he could get in fast enough, and blood poured over his eyes. Hissing and closing them, Percy decided to just swipe out with Riptide and hope to connect - it wouldn’t hurt any mortals, anyway. He felt the blad connect, and heard a cry as he wiped away enough blood to see what had happened - he’d gotten her across the arm she’d raised to defend herself. But it wasn’t enough, and now she was raising her whip - it hit him across the chest, burning him and he fell back, crashing to the floor. 

The cap must have fallen off, because he could see his arms and legs beneath him now. The driver was looking back at them to try and see what was happening, and Percy prayed he didn’t crash the bus. Scrambling back to his seat with Grover and Annabeth in the very back, he noticed Annabeth had taken out her dagger, and Grover looked ready to hurl some cans at the enemy. 

Moments later, they’d cleared the Lincoln Tunnel, and light flooded the bus once more. He’s not sure what the mortals saw, but it must not be good by the screaming and horrified gasps. Then again, a kid bleeding from the face and an old lady holding something in her hands like she was ready to hit him with it didn’t paint a pretty picture in any circumstance. 

The bus driver started to shout about getting back in their seats, before they swerved for a heart-stopping moment and he turned back around to regain control. The driver found an exit eventually - probably planning to pull over and call the police about assault happening on the bus - but the last fury wasn’t patient enough to wait for the bus to stop before she was upon them again. With the woods rushing past them on their left, and the Hudson on their right, the bus hadn’t even begun to slow down before she was cracking her whip at them. Well, Percy mostly. 

Blood was still running down his face (damn head-wounds and their tendency to bleed like a rushing river) so he let Annabeth step in front of him to deal with Mrs. Dodds sister. Taking a moment to breathe and trusting that she could handle it, Percy willed his blood to stop flowing from the gashes on his face. Calling for what was still on his face and rolling down his neck to reverse its path and return to him, he had the situation mostly under control by the time Annabeth had defeated the final Fury. The bus was coming to a halt, and the three of them all shared a look before grabbing their bags and rushing off the vehicle. Explosion or not, this was not the place to be right now, and he doubted the driver would let them continue their ride after seemingly killing three innocent old ladies. 


	8. Chapter 7: There's No Such Thing as a Free Meal

Walking through the still pouring rain on the side of an unfamiliar road was one of the things he’d really hoped to avoid on this trip. 

Grover was shivering and braying, his big goat eyes turned slit-pupiled and full of terror. "Three Kindly Ones. All three at once."

Annabeth kept pushing them along, insisting that the further they got away the better. He didn’t disagree, but he’d have liked a moment to try and deal with his face wound better than just consciously willing it to not bleed the whole way. He was starting to get a headache. Seriously, someone had to have some bandages or something with them, right? Even just a sip of Ambrosia would do wonders, but Annabeth wouldn’t let them stop long enough for him to fish it out of his bag. She must think that just because he’s not bleeding anymore that it can’t be that bad. His chest still burns, too. Those whips are no joke. 

“Wise girl, seriously, I think we’re far enough for now. We just got attacked by three kingly ones. Let’s slow down for a minute, have a snack break, and then we can get going again. Please?” 

Annabeth sighed, but nodded and slowed to a stop. There was nowhere dry to sit, but they weren’t dry anyways, so they settled for some rocks that would at least not get mud on their clothes. 

Opening his bag to pull out his canteen, he took the smallest sip of Ambrosia he could before putting it back inside. It’d be more useful later, and he shouldn’t drink a lot in one sitting anyways. Even as a demigod, he was still half-human, and god food could kill him. 

“Hey Perce? Think you could do something about us being all… wet? I mean, that seems like it’d be your kinda thing…” Grover asked, shivering. 

He sighed, “I can try? Water from the sky is always harder than running water, but… yeah, give me a minute.” 

No longer having to stay laser-focused on controlling his blood, Percy let his senses drift towards Annabeth and Grover. He hadn’t been lying - it was always harder for him to stay dry in the rain, but all water was technically his domain. It just took a little more effort. Thinking of fresh, dry clothes and blow-dried hair, he felt the water on his clothes and skin start to leave him in favor of the ground. The same happened for Annabeth and Grover, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long, exhausted as he was. 

“There. We’ll have to find shelter soon, though; I’ve already got a headache.” 

“Thanks, seaweed brain.” 

“Yeah, thanks Percy.” 

After a few moments of content silence, they all stood up and began walking again. It felt easier to do dry, even as the mud sloshed about below them. 

“You know… I haven’t thanked you. For saving us. So, no matter how stupid it was, thanks for that.” 

“No problem. We’re a team, remember?” 

“Yeah. I - I just. If you had died… that’d be it. The quest would have ended, and this might be my only chance to see the outside world.” 

“Right, you’re a year-rounder, aren’t you? You don’t just stay at camp for the summer.”

“Right. And I’ve been there since I was seven.” 

“That’s a long time.” 

“You can say that again. And camp is cool, really, but all you do there is  _ train.  _ The real world is where the monsters are, where you learn if you’re any good or not.” 

“You seemed pretty good with that dagger to me, wise girl?”

“You think so?” 

“Anyone who can deal with one of those things on their own on a moving bus is pretty cool in my book.” 

Annabeth scoffed at his childish grin - she knew what he was insinuating, but took the compliment anyway. 

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a shrill  _ toot-toot-toot, _ that startled them out of whatever sense of peace they’d been tentatively approaching with one another. 

"Hey, my reed pipes still work!" Grover cried. "If I could just remember a 'find path' song, we could get out of these woods!" 

He puffed out a few notes, but the tune still sounded suspiciously like Hilary Duff.

Suffering through a few more horrible attempts at a “find path” song from his best friend over the next fifteen minutes or so, a light eventually appeared in the distance. While Percy did want to stop there for his own personal reasons, he couldn’t repress the mental sigh of frustration at the thought of another battle so soon. 

It wasn’t a fast-food restaurant like some of its appearance would make you think; it was just a crummy little side-of-the-road curio store that sold plastic flamingos and garden gnomes. Still, it smelled really good inside, and he knew if nothing else it  _ would  _ have some good, non-godly food inside that would be a warm welcome, no matter what ancient, snake-headed beast it came from. 

Even knowing the place was called “Aunty Em’s Garden Gnome Emporium” didn’t make the damned red-cursive letter sign look any less like it said ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROUIM. Curse dyslexia, and double cure whoever thought cursive neon letters was a good sign format. 

Flanking the entrance, as advertised, were two cement garden gnomes, ugly bearded little runts, smiling and waving, as if they were about to get their picture taken.

He crossed the street, following the smell of the hamburgers.

"Hey ..." Grover warned.

"The lights are on inside," Annabeth said. "Maybe it's open."

"Snack bar," Percy mentioned. 

"Snack bar," she agreed.

"Are you two crazy?" Grover said. "This place is weird."

They ignored him. One because he already knew the place was dangerous and didn’t care, and the other because she was willfully ignoring potential danger out of hunger and exhaustion. 

The front lot was a forest of statues: cement animals, cement children, even a cement satyr playing the pipes, which gave Grover the creeps.

_ "Bla-ha-ha!" _ he bleated. "Looks like my Uncle Ferdinand!"

They stopped at the warehouse door.

"Don't knock," Grover pleaded. "I smell monsters."

"Your nose is clogged up from the Furies," Annabeth told him. "All I smell is burgers. Aren't you hungry?"

"Meat!" he said scornfully. "I'm a vegetarian."

“Well,” Percy spoke, weary and just a bit agitated, “you still have your cans and apples, don’t you? Me and Annabeth didn’t bring much human food, so we’re going in.” 

Technically, he was pretty sure Annabeth did have some granola bars or something on her, and worst come they could bum some apples off Grover, but a full free meal and a chance to sit down on actual chairs? It was kind of a no-brainer, monsters or no. 

Then the door creaked open, and standing in front of them was a tall Middle Eastern looking woman in a long black gown that covered everything but her hands, and her head was completely veiled. Her eyes glinted behind a curtain of black gauze, but that was it. Her coffee-colored hands looked wrinkled, but well-manicured and elegant, which gave off the vibe of an older woman who had once been a beautiful young lady.

Her accent sounded vaguely Middle Eastern, too. She said, "Children, it is too late to be out all alone. Where are your parents?"

"They're ... um ..." Annabeth started to say.

“We were on a field trip to visit the Hudson and got separated from our group,” Percy interrupted. Like he was going to go with the circus orphans bit again - it was funny but used up. 

“Oh, you poor children!’ grandma-Medusa said. 

“Yeah, and it’s late - we’re kinda hungry, do you think we could stay a while?” He said, figuring that was about as much of an explanation as a monster would need to take in three unsuspecting demigod children. 

"Oh, my dears," the woman said. "You must come in, poor children. I am Aunty Em. Go straight through to the back of the warehouse, please. There is a dining area."

They thanked her and stepped in. 

“Quick thinking, seaweed brain,” Annabeth whispered on the way in. 

“Always have a strategy, right wise girl?”

She sent him a quick smile, and he felt this heart flutter in his chest. Friends was good, but he needed to work them up to girlfriend and boyfriend soon. After Luke revealed himself though, because he was pretty sure he couldn’t compete with that guy for her affections until she knew he wasn’t an option. 

The warehouse was filled with more statues—people in all different poses, wearing all different outfits and with different expressions on their faces. Well, really they were just petrified people, but still - if you didn;t know that, it’d look like some pretty good craftsmanship. Though you’d need a pretty big garden to fit any of them, as they were all life-sized - obviously. 

As they reached the back, sure enough, there it was: a fast-food counter with a grill, a soda fountain, a pretzel heater, and a nacho cheese dispenser. Everything you could want, plus a few steel picnic tables out front.

"Please, sit down," Aunty Em and/or Medusa said.

He and Annabeth did so easily, but Grover stood back. 

“Uhm, ma’am, how much will this all cost?” 

Percy almost snorted, knowing monsters didn’t even eat human food, this was all just a trap for them, so it wasn’t much loss on Medusa’s part if they actually ate it. 

Aunty Em said, "No, no, children. No money. This is a special case, yes? It is my treat, for such nice little students."

"Thank you, ma'am," Annabeth said.

Aunty Em stiffened, as if Annabeth had done something wrong, but then the old woman relaxed just as quickly, so he figured she just hadn’t expected them to be polite. Over all, she was keeping up the act fairly well - he’d compliment her on it if he wasn’t going to behead her soon. Might send a mixed message. 

"Quite all right, Annabeth," she said. "You have such beautiful gray eyes, child,” okay, stepping into creepy town. 

Their hostess disappeared behind the snack counter and started cooking. Before they knew it, she'd brought out plastic trays heaped with double cheeseburgers, vanilla shakes, and XXL servings of French fries.

Percy and Annabeth dug in easily, he barely remembered to breathe as he devoured his first burger. 

Grover picked at the fries, and eyed the tray's waxed paper liner as if he might go for that, but he still looked too nervous to eat.

"What's that hissing noise?" he asked.

_ Please, Grover, buddy, just let me get through another burger and half of these fries before you start drawing attention to the snake-haired woman hosting us, _ Percy prayed in his head. 

"Hissing?" Aunty Em asked. "Perhaps you hear the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover."

"I take vitamins. For my ears."

"That's admirable," she said. "But please, relax."

Aunty Em ate nothing. She hadn't taken off her headdress, even to cook, and now she sat toward and interlaced her fingers and watched us eat. It was a little unsettling, having someone stare at him when he couldn’t see her face, doubly so when Percy knew exactly what was beneath, but he was finishing up his second burger and almost done with his shake already, so he should probably slow down anyways. Might as well offer some small talk to help stop himself from eating too much and puking it all up later. 

“So, you sell gnomes?” he asked lightly. 

"Oh, yes," Aunty Em said. "And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know."

"A lot of business on this road?"

"Not so much, no. Since the highway was built... most cars, they do not go this way now. I must cherish every customer I get."

His neck tingled a little, as he turned to look at the image of a petrified young girl holding an Easter basket. The poor girl, she looked terrified. 

"Ah," Aunty Em said sadly. "You notice some of my creations do not turn out well. They are marred. They do not sell. The face is the hardest to get right. Always the face."

"You make these statues yourself?" he questioned as he turned back to Medusa, mostly to distract himself from what he’d just seen. 

"Oh, yes. Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in the business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. This is why I make them, you see. They are my company." The sadness in her voice sounded so real that Percy felt bad. He knew that some monsters had genuinely just wanted to exist peacefully, but the gods wouldn’t let them, and so they turned bitter and vengeful. 

Annabeth had stopped eating. She sat forward and said, "Two sisters?"

"It's a terrible story," Aunty Em said. "Not one for children, really. You see, Annabeth, a bad woman was jealous of me, long ago, when I was young. I had a... a boyfriend, you know, and this bad woman was determined to break us apart. She caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune as long as they could, but eventually they passed on. They faded away. I alone have survived, but at a price. Such a price."

"Percy?" Annabeth was shaking me to get my attention. "Maybe we should go. I mean, our teacher and parents must be worried sick.”

She sounded tense. Grover was eating the waxed paper off the tray now, but if Aunty Em found that strange, she didn't say anything.

"Such beautiful gray eyes," Aunty Em told Annabeth again. "My, yes, it has been a long time since I've seen gray eyes like those."

She reached out as if to stroke Annabeth's cheek, but Annabeth stood up abruptly.

"We really should go."

"Yes!" Grover swallowed his waxed paper and stood up. "The teacher is waiting! Right!"

He knew his friends were scared, and felt bad for making them stick back for this when they’d faced three Furies not long ago, but he needed to do this. FOr his mother. Sure, there were other ways to get rid of Smelly Gabe, but this felt the most poetic. 

"Please, dears," Aunty Em pleaded. "I so rarely get to be with children. Before you go, won't you at least sit for a pose?"

"A pose?" Annabeth asked warily.

"A photograph. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular, you see. Everyone loves children."

Annabeth shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I don't think we can, ma'am. Come on, Percy-"

"Sure we can," Percy grit through his teeth, impatient and a bit anxious, knowing he’d have to be fast as soon as they got into position "It's just a photo, Annabeth. There’s no harm in one photo, right?"

"Yes, Annabeth," Aunty Em purred. "No harm."

Annabeth clearly didn’t like it, but she let Aunty Em lead them back out the front doors into the garden of statues.

Aunty Em directed them to a park bench next to the stone satyr. "Now," she said, "I'll just position you correctly. The young girl in the middle, I think, and the two young gentlemen on either side."

"Not much light for a photo," Percy remarked, just as an idle observation, really. 

"Oh, enough," Aunty Em said. "Enough for us to see each other, yes?"

"Where's your camera?" Grover asked.

Aunty Em stepped back, as if to admire the shot. "Now, the face is the most difficult. Can you smile for me please, everyone? A large smile?"

Grover glanced at the cement satyr next to him, and mumbled, "That sure does look like Uncle Ferdinand..."

"Grover," Aunty Em chastised, "look this way, dear."

She still had no camera in her hands, of course. 

"Percy-" Annabeth said.

"I will just be a moment," Aunty Em said. "You know, I can't see you very well in this cursed veil...."

"Percy, something's wrong," Annabeth insisted.

"Wrong?" Aunty Em said, reaching up to undo the wrap around her head. "Not at all, dear. I have such noble company tonight. What could be wrong?"

"That  _ is  _ Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover gasped.

Snatching Riptide from his pocket and uncapping it quickly, Percy rushed forward before Medusa could undo her veil any further. It was a little hard to tell just where her neck was, like this, but if he aimed just right - Riptide swiped cleanly through thin air, as Medusa took a hasty step back and he had to quickly close his eyes as she undid the last of her veil. 

"Look away from her!" Annabeth shouted. She whipped her Yankees cap onto her head and vanished. Her invisible hands pushed Grover off the bench, and knocked him to the ground along the way as well. 

From the floor, he could hear his friends scrambling away on either side of him, but he didn’t dare to look. He could already hear the snakes on her head hissing, agitated and possibly anticipating what was about to happen. How sentient are hair-snakes? 

"Run!" Grover bleated. Percy could hear him racing across the gravel, cloven hooves impacting loudly. 

"Such a pity to destroy a handsome young face," she told me soothingly. "Stay with me, Percy. All you have to do is look up."

It was then that he realized that at least  _ some  _ of the grogginess he’d been feeling wasn’t just from being worn out - she’d done something to him. Some sort of calming draught in the food? Maybe a spell? He thought he remembered something like this happening before, but it hadn’t occurred to him earlier. 

"The Gray-Eyed One did this to me, Percy," Medusa said, and she didn't sound anything like a monster, honestly. Her voice invited him to look up, to sympathize with a poor old grandmother.

"Annabeth's mother, the cursed Athena, turned me from a beautiful woman into this."

"Don't listen to her!" Annabeth's voice shouted, somewhere in the statuary. "Run, Percy!"

"Silence!" Medusa snarled. Then her voice modulated back to a comforting purr. "You see why I must destroy the girl, Percy. She is my enemy's daughter. I shall crush her statue to dust. But you, dear Percy, you need not suffer."

"No," the son of Poesidon muttered. He tried to make his legs move, barely finding the strength to do so.

"Do you really want to help the gods?" Medusa asked. "Do you understand what awaits you on this foolish quest, Percy? What will happen if you reach the Underworld? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Less pain. Less pain."

"Percy!" From behind, heard the stomping of hooves against gravel, much heavier than before, like they were carrying something heavy with them. Grover yelled, "Duck!" and just as he did, Percy heard the  _ woosh  _ of something heavy soaring overhead. 

There was a  _ thump  _ and  _ crash  _ of something breaking, and distantly Percy realized that his friend had just thrown a garden gnome at Medusa. He wasn’t sure it actually hit, until the monster screeched, "You miserable satyr! I'll add you to my collection!"

"That was for Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover yelled back.

Moments later, there was another crash and some cursing, it sounded like that was a much heavier gnome this time. How his friend was managing these throws with any accuracy he had no idea, but for now he’d just be glad that his friend had found the adrenaline-rush-strength he needed to throw heavy gnome projectiles at the enemy. 

Right next to him, Percy heard Annabeth hiss his name before yanking her cap off. 

“You need to behead her.” 

“My thinking exactly, but how am I supposed to get close? You don’t happen to have a huge mirror lying around, do you?”

Annabeth grabbed a green gazing ball from a nearby pedestal. "A polished shield would be better," she studied the sphere critically. "The convexity will cause some distortion. The reflection's size should be off by a factor of-"

“Objects in the mirror may be closer than they appear, I get it, just pass it over.” 

“Don’t mess this up, seaweed brain! Only look at her in the glass,  _ never  _ look at her directly!”

"Hey, guys!" Grover yelled somewhere above us. "I think she's unconscious!"

"Roooaaarrr!"

"Maybe not," Grover corrected. He hefted another gnome off the ground, and it was then that Percy saw his friend’s head was bowed. So he was just looking down and aiming higher than where he looked?

"Hurry," Annabeth demanded.

Taking the glass ball in his left hand and holding it up and to his side, Percy charged at Medusa with Riptide raised in his other hand.

Grover seemed to finally be running out of whatever crazy strength the adrenaline rush had been giving him, and stumbled over picking up the next gnome. Just as Medusa was about to rush him, Percy called out “Hey! Over here, snake-head!”

Gaining her attention for a few moments, he closed the last few feet of distance between them and swung Riptide cleanly through her neck. The wet sound of something  _ thumping _ to the ground by his foot was the last thing he heard before re-capping his sword.

"Oh, yuck," Grover said. His eyes were still tightly closed, but he could obviously still hear the thing gurgling and steaming. "Mega-yuck."

Annabeth came up next to them, her eyes fixed on the sky. She was holding Medusa's black veil. She said, "Don't move."

Very, very carefully, without looking down, she knelt and draped the monster's head in black cloth, then picked it up. It was still dripping green juice.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Yeah," Percy decided. Worn out and ready in desperate need of some aspirin, but mostly okay. 

Grover moaned as he picked himself up off the floor. He had a big welt on his forehead. His green rasta cap hung from one of his little goat horns, and his fake feet had been knocked off his hooves. 

Percy smiled at his best friend, “Thanks, man. You did great back there.” 

“Yeah… you’re welcome.” 

They found some grocery bags in the back of the warehouse and double-wrapped Medusa’s head, setting it on the picnic table they’d all eaten at earlier. 

“So, Medusa, huh? Seemed to hold a real grudge against your mom,” He finally broke the silence with. 

“Mhm, you can thank your dad for that one. Medusa was Poseidon's girlfriend, remember? They decided to meet in my mother's temple, that's why Athena turned her into a monster. Medusa and her two sisters who had helped her get into the temple, they became the three gorgons. That's why Medusa wanted to slice me up, but she wanted to preserve you as a nice statue. She's still sweet on your dad. You probably reminded her of him."

“Oh, so this is by fault?”

“It’s just one picture, Annabeth, there’s no harm in it,” she mocked, and he wasn’t having any of that. 

“Hey, I knew she was a monster! I just wanted to con her out of some free food, and was planning on beheading her before she turned us into statues, thank you very much.”

“Sure, seaweed brain. Keep telling yourself that.”

“Oh, you’re impossible.”

“And  _ you’re  _ insufferable-”

“Can you two quit it? You’re giving me a migraine, and satyrs don’t even  _ get  _ migraines.” Grover interrupted. “What are we going to do with the head?” 

Percy grinned, standing up to go find a familiar office. Grabbing a box, a marker, and a stamp, he returned to the picnic table, where his friends were waiting with a confused, silent patience. 

Signing the delivery slip and placing the head inside the box, percy sealed it and placed the stamp on the outside, before writing: 

**The Gods**

**Mount Olympus**

**600th Floor,**

**Empire State Building**

**New York, NY**

**With best wishes,**

**PERCY JACKSON**

In large letters. Then, placing a few golden drachmas from the pouch in his pocket, Percy sent the delivery off. 

“They’re not going to like that,” the satyr commented anxiously, “they’re going to think you’re impertinent.”

"I  _ am _ impertinent," the son of Poesidon said. 

He looked to Annabeth, daring her to challenge him, but she didn’t. By now she was probably resigned to his ways. That is, his unnatural talent for pissing people off for no good reason. 

“Come on,” she muttered, placing her hands on the table and staring them down with all the steeliness of Athena's gaze, “We need a new plan.”

  
  



	9. Chapter 8: No More Buses

The rest of that evening saw them camping out in the woods, a good way away from “Aunty Em’s”. They’d taken food and blankets from the monster’s hideout, but didn’t dare light a fire for warmth. Percy at least felt a sense of satisfaction at being able to keep their clothes dry, so they wouldn’t go to sleep wet. 

The clearing they’d choses was clearly used by teens and young adults for parties, with all the littered beer and soda cans, and various fast-food wrappers. Seeing the dejected look of his satyr friend’s face at the mess, Percy did his best to clear up the space, even though he was sure the area wouldn’t stay clean for long. Grover smiled appreciatively, but it was weak and he knew his friend was still feeling miserable. 

“Go ahead and sleep, g-man. I’ll wake you guys if there’s trouble.” 

“Thanks, Percy. This all just… makes me so sad. You can’t see the stars in the sky, either.” 

He nodded, listening carefully to his friend. Even if he already knew these things, and was sufficiently disappointed in humanity for it, if it made Grover feel better, he’d listen all night long to anything he had to say. 

“Tell me about the search, Grover. For Pan.” 

"The God of Wild Places disappeared two thousand years ago," he spoke softly. "A sailor off the coast of Ephesos heard a mysterious voice crying out from the shore, 'Tell them that the great god Pan has died!' When humans heard the news, they believed it. They've been pillaging Pan's kingdom ever since. But for the satyrs, Pan was our lord and master. He protected us and the wild places of the earth. We refuse to believe that he died. In every generation, the bravest satyrs pledge their lives to finding Pan. They search the earth, exploring all the wildest places, hoping to find where he is hidden, and wake him from his sleep."

“And you’re trying to become a searcher.”

“It’s my life’s dream! My father was a searcher. And my Uncle Ferdinand ... the statue you saw back there-"

“Right. I’m sorry about him, by the way.”

Grover shook his head. "Uncle Ferdinand knew the risks. So did my dad. But I'll succeed. I'll be the first searcher to return alive."

Percy nodded sagely. He wouldn’t lecture his friend about going on such a dangerous quest, not when he knew his friend was right - even if he didn’t really know it yet. Grover Underwood would find Pan, even if he wouldn’t be bringing the god home. 

He stared into the rapidly disappearing sun, deep orange hues filling the sky that would soon turn purple, then blue, then black. 

“So, have we actually discussed how we’re going to go up against a god yet or did I just miss that part?” Something tells him that a poodle is going to be very important soon, but that’s all he can remember. That and Annabeth’s nerdiness for architecture. 

"I don't know," his friend admitted. "But back at Medusa's, when you were searching her office? Annabeth was telling me-"

“Ah, right, we always have good ol’ wise girl to fall back on.” 

“Don’t be too hard on her Percy, she’s had a tough life, but she’s a good person. She forgave me, afterall…” his voice faltered. 

“What? Oh, I wasn’t being sarcastic. Annabeth and I argue sometimes, but I know she’s really smart. Smarter than me, for sure. If she says she has a plan, I trust her, man.” 

“Oh… that’s good. I’m glad you two can get along most of the time, at least.” 

“What, worried the son of Poesidon and daughter of Athena wouldn’t get along? I don’t believe in letting your parents decide who your friends are. It’s dumb.” 

“Yeah, but not everyone thinks like that. Annabeth especially, I think she really wants to prove herself to her mom, you know? Make her proud.” 

Percy nodded, deciding not to say anything about that. 

After a few too many moments of silence, Grover pulled out his reed pipe and blew a few short notes on it. It wasn’t as bad as listening him to him play a full song, but then again maybe he was just playing songs that weren’t good for a reed pipe. 

“You know I didn’t agree to go to the underworld to get the bolt back, right man?”

“I do. You want to save your mother, but are you sure that’s the only reason?”

“No, it’s not. I also don’t think Hades took the bolt, and we need to see him to prove it.” 

That startled his friend a bit. 

“You don’t think he took it? Why not? If it’s not him, then why-” 

“I just said I can’t prove it until we go see him. He needs to admit it, and tell us what’s really going on. All I’ve got is a lot of… circumstantial evidence. I have suspicions of who took the bolt, but I can’t say for sure yet.”

Grover nodded hesitantly. 

“Well, I trust you Perce. If you say it’s not Hades, I’ll… then I believe you.”

“Thanks, Grover. That means a lot to me.” 

“Hey, why don’t I take the first watch? You need some rest,” Grover said gently, staring at the sky wistfully.

“...Sure man.” 

Listening to his friend play the soft tunes of Mozart, Percy fell asleep under the stars. 

And opened his eyes to the feeling of hands and claws tugging at him and his clothes, dragging him closer to a looming pit. The opening was so vast and dark that it had to be bottomless, and yet he could tell something resided within, attempting to drag itself out. Kronos.

_ The little hero, _ an amused voice echoed far down in the darkness.  _ Too weak, too young, but perhaps you will do. _

The voice sounded as ancient as it should - cold and heavy. It wrapped around him like sheets of lead.

_ They have misled you, boy, it said. Barter with me. I will give you what you want. _

_ Yeah, right,  _ He thought.

A flickering image of his mother materialized over the pit. He growled, how dare this monster try to use her face to manipulate him? 

_ Help me rise, boy.  _ The voice became hungrier. _ Bring me the bolt. Strike a blow against the treacherous gods! _

The spirits of the dead whispered all around him,  _ No! Wake! _

The image of his mother faded, as the creature within the pit continued to try to pull itself out, using Percy’s body as an anchor. 

_ Good, _ it murmured.  _ Good. _

_ Wake! _ the dead whispered.  _ Wake! _

Someone was poking his face.

His eyes opened, (really opened, this time) and it was daylight.

"Well," Annabeth said, "the zombie lives."

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Prophecy dream. How long was I out for?” 

“Just long enough for me to make breakfast, and Grover went on a hike. Look, he even found a friend. What was the dream about?”

Eyes finally adjusting to the light around him, Percy glanced first at the pink poodle sitting in Grover’s lap, then to the nacho-flavored corn chips Annabeth had thrown him. Opening it and eating a few handfuls before speaking, he lied through his teeth about his dream and hoped wise-girl didn’t get too smart about this so early in the morning.. 

“Oh, you know. Zeus and Poesidon destroying all of New York on the Summer Solstice, more yelling about the bolt. Someone mentioned a helmet.” 

“You said that before, in the infirmary. Hades's Helm of Darkness, right? His symbol of power. Don’t tell me that’s missing now too, seaweed brain.” 

“No clue, wise-girl. It was pretty chaotic. But I guess we can ask my dear uncle about his helmet when we meet him. Who knows, maybe someone’s going around collecting the gods’ symbols of power for themselves.”

Right, it’d be a good idea to get them thinking along that track early. If they started doubting Hades’s guilt now, then they’d be much more open to the idea later.

Annabeth’s face darkened. “If you’re right, we’d have a much bigger problem on our hands. Don’t jinx us, idiot.” 

He nodded, figuring it was about the right time to address their furry little friend. “So, g-man, what’s up with your friend there?”

The poodle yipped at him. “No, he’s not,” the satyr replied. “Percy, meet Gladiola. Gladiola, Percy.”

Grover explained that he'd come across Gladiola in the woods and they'd struck up a conversation. The poodle had run away from a rich local family, who’d posted a reward for him. 

They weren’t really strapped for cash at the moment like they had been last time, so Percy wondered why Grover had brought Gladiola with him this time. Maybe just for companionship? To help keep the little guy away from his family? 

“Well, we should probably get going soon. There’s an Amtrak station about half a mile away, and the westbound station leaves at noon, according to Gladiola.”

“Thank the gods it’s not another bus,” Percy sighed. 

“Amen,” Grover agreed.

They spent two days on the Amtrak train, heading west through hills, over rivers, past amber waves of grain. He knew they shouldn’t be attacked anytime soon, so he allowed himself to relax on the ride. Only just enough to actually catch up on the sleep he’d missed the first day of their quest, but he still kept his right hand in his pocket at almost all times, fingers resting on Riptide’s pen-form. 

He tried to keep a low-profile, seeing as how his face was probably still plastered over every newspaper. One of them he’d read himself - the Trenton-something. There was a photo of him getting off the Greyhound, Riptide blurry and vaguely baseball-bat shaped in his hands. Probably taken by some tourist with a desperate need for attention. 

The picture's caption read:

_ Twelve-year-old Percy Jackson, wanted for questioning in the Long Island disappearance of his mother two weeks ago, is shown here fleeing from the bus where he accosted several elderly female passengers. The bus swerved and drove off-course to stop on an east New Jersey roadside, and Jackson quickly fled the scene. Based on eyewitness accounts, police believe the boy may be traveling with two teenage accomplices. His stepfather, Gabe Ugliano, has offered a cash reward for information leading to his capture. _

_ Che,  _ he scoffed, throwing the paper down onto the table in front of them. Like mortal police would ever be able to find, let alone  _ catch  _ him. 

Once, he spotted a family of centaurs hunting off to the side of the train. One of them, a little boy, waved and smiled as Percy did the same. Always be nice to little kids, as long as they aren’t brats. Another time, he was pretty sure he saw a Chimera, or at least something related to one, running through the trees alongside the tracks. 

"So," Annabeth asked him, once when Grover was snoring a littl ess loudly than usual, "Who wants your help?"

"What?"

"When you were asleep just now, you mumbled, 'I won't help you.' Who were you dreaming about?"

Stupid sleep-tallking. Unfortunately one of the only habits in the world that he couldn’t consciously prevent. Well, he could give her a little bit of information, he supposed. 

“Someone’s been asking me for help through my dreams. They’re stuck in a bottomless pit, and are trying to use me to pull themself out. They offered my mother in trade, but I don’t think they sounded much like Hades…”

He was reminded of the Furies, as he spoke of his uncle. He’d already brought up the possibility that the god was looking for his Helm, now if only he could convince them that Kronos was rising. What a pain. 

“Well, you’re right that it doesn’t really sound like him… but I don’t think anyone else could offer you your mother back, unless they were lying.”

“Yeah. I guess I just don’t really believe Hades has the bolt. Something tells me it’s not his style, and if his Helm’s gone, too, then at the least maybe he didn’t start all of this. Maybe it was an act of revenge, for someone taking his symbol?”

Annabeth looked uncomfortable with the subject, and they quickly moved on to lighter subjects. Percy figured now was as good a time as any to bring up her family issues - he’d almost slipped up a few times and mentioned something about her dad or step-brothers already. 

“So… your dad’s a professor, right? Do you have any siblings? Like, besides the other Athena kids.”

She shifted in her seat, and looked out the window with an agitation stirring in her eyes. 

“Two younger brothers. Step-brothers. But I haven’t seen them in a long time.”

“Right, cause you’ve been at camp for so long. Was it hard to be away from them, at such a young age? I mean, there’s no way you made it to camp all on your own so young, but it must have still been scary. Getting chased by monsters and not knowing why.”

“It was tough, but not because I was away from my family. My dad married an awful woman who hated me for what I am, and never even let me play with her kids; the worst part was that he always sided with her. When I was seven I took the hint that I wasn’t wanted and ran away. Some people found me and took me to Camp Half-Blood, and that’s that.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. At least my mom sorta tried to stand up to Gabe sometimes, even if she couldn’t do much…”

“I’m sorry too. About your mom. You know you can’t make a deal with anyone to get her back, right? That’s not how life and death works. No hero has ever brought someone back to life successfully.” 

“I know. And if I did get her back, I wouldn’t make some shady deal with an immortal being I’ve never met; I’d get her back with my own power.”

She nodded, obviously not convinced that he wouldn’t trade away anything to anyone to get his mom back. Once upon a time he might have, when he had no way to fight back. When all he could do was offer everything he had and pray for the gods to be just a little kind. 

Toward the end of their second day on the train, eight days before the summer solstice, they passed through some golden hills and over the Mississippi River into St. Louis. Annabeth craned her neck to see the Gateway Arch, which looked to me like a huge shopping bag handle stuck on the city.

"I want to do that," she sighed.

“Build your own, you mean?”

“Well, not exactly it, because someone’s already done it. But I want to make something of my own  _ like  _ it. You ever see the Parthenon,, Percy?”

Yes, he had. Many times in fact, with his crazy girlfriend dragging him there once every other years or so to just walk around and admire the place. He’d indulge her, watching the wonder in her eyes as she sketched out all of the tiniest details, and ask questions that he thought sounded engaging. Unfortunately he’d never gotten all that into architecture, but he could appreciate a pretty building, and hard work when he saw it. 

“Really? You’ve gone there? Someday, I'm going to see it in person. I'm going to build the greatest monument to the gods, ever. Something that'll last a thousand years."

“I’m sure you will, wise girl. Sounds just like the sort of thing you’d get up to. And yeah, I’ve been. It’s really something. I’ll take you sometime, if you want - of course, you’d have to be alright with riding a Kelpie.”

“You - you rode a  _ Kelpie _ to Greece? When? Just how long have you known you were the son of Poesidon?”

“Well, the fact that I always beat my friends and holding-your-breath- underwater contests was the first clue. After that it was all just in the subtext.”

They shared a laugh, and before they knew it the Amtrak was pulling into the station downtown. The intercom announced they’d have a three-hour layover before departing for Denver. Annabeth shook Grover awake, and he stretched for a few moments before fully waking up. 

“Food,” was the first thing out of the satyr’s mouth. 

“Come on, goat boy. We’re going sightseeing.”

“Sightseeing?” He mumbled. 

"The Gateway Arch," she said. "This may be my only chance to ride to the top. Are you coming or not?"

“Well, we can’t just let you go alone, can we?” Percy spoke up. 

Grover shrugged. "As long as there's a snack bar without monsters."

  
  
  



	10. Chapter 9: Chihuahuas Don't Belong in Skyscrapers

The Arch was about a mile from the train station. Late in the day the lines to get in weren't that long. The trio threaded their way through the underground museum, looking at covered wagons and other relics from the 1800s. It wasn't all that thrilling, but Annabeth kept telling them interesting facts about how it was all built, and Grover had enough jelly beans to make things better.

Percy winced when they came to the tiny elevator car they’d be riding to the top. He'd never really gotten over his claustrophobia as a kid, (in fact, some of his life experiences had heightened it quite a bit) but he could deal with this. Just as long as he kept his mind focused on something else. Something besides closed off, inescapable spaces far away from any natural source of water, and being near Zeus’s domain in general. Yeah, not helping there, brain.

The group (the trio and a fat lady in a denim dress with her little dog,) shoehorned into the elevator. As soon as the doors shut he felt his stomach flip a little, and he reached up to the simple leather charm necklace he was wearing to play with a charm shaped like a four-leaf clover. It felt better than doing nothing, and calmed his nerves a bit.

“No parents?” the lady asked, and Percy felt like he should recognize her. That couldn’t be good. 

“They’re scared of heights,” Annabeth provided. “Waiting down below.” 

“Oh, the poor darlings.”

The Chihuahua growled. The woman said, "Now, now, sonny. Behave." The dog had beady eyes like its owner, intelligent and vicious.

“Is that his name? Sonny?” Grover asked. 

“No,” was all she said in reply, like that answered everything. 

At the top of the Arch, the observation deck reminded Percy of a tin can with carpeting. Rows of tiny windows looked out over the city on one side and the river on the other. The view was alright, but if he hated anything more than confined spaces, it would be a confined space six hundred feet in the air. He felt sick, and started tugging on the leather around his neck. A small part of his brain registered that some rings or bracelets might be nice to have as well at times like this, and added getting some to his amental to-do list. 

Annabeth kept talking about structural supports, and how she would've made the windows bigger, and designed a see-through floor. She probably could've stayed up there for hours, but luckily for him the park ranger announced that the observation deck would be closing in a few minutes.

They all headed towards the exit, (Annabeth rather reluctantly) and his friends had already stepped into the car when he realized two other tourists were sitting inside. No room for him. Percy wanted to puke, the sense of having forgotten something nagging his brain and demanding attention. 

The park ranger said, "Next car, sir."

"We'll get out," Annabeth said. "We'll wait with you."

But it didn’t feel right to make everyone wait because of him, and as much as he wanted to say yes, he found himself shaking his head and waving his friends off. 

“It’s fine guys, go on ahead. I’ll be right there.” 

Grover and Annabeth both looked nervous, but they let the elevator door slide shut. Their car disappeared down the ramp. Now the only people left on the observation deck were Percy, a little boy with his parents, the park ranger, and the fat lady with her Chihuahua.

He smiled uneasily at the fat lady. She smiled back, her forked tongue flickering between her teeth.

Wait a minute. Forked tongue? 

Oh no. 

Before he could react, her Chihuahua jumped down and started yapping at him.

"Now, now, sonny," the lady said. "Does this look like a good time? We have all these nice people here."

"Doggie!" said the little boy. "Look, a doggie!"

His parents pulled him back.

The Chihuahua bared his teeth at him, foam dripping from his black lips.

"Well, son," the fat lady sighed. "If you insist."

Yup, he’d screwed up royally. How could he forget the chimera chihuahua and his awful mother Echena- or was it Ellena? Eriena? Whatever. The point is, there was a rapidly growing, poisonous, fire breathing monster in front of him, and he hadn’t even uncapped Riptide yet. 

Ducking and rolling to evade the creature’s first bite, he pulled Riptide from his pocket and uncapped it, breathing a quick sigh of relief at the flash of Celestial Bronze. He ended up next to the family and park ranger, who were frantically trying to open the emergency exit doors. Taking a defensive stance in front of the group of mortals, Percy preferred to do his best to keep them all safe. He couldn’t just let them all die because he was half-way into a panic attack, now could he? That’s not what a hero does. 

And he is. A hero, that is. He’s Percy Jackson, son of Poesideon. He’s a big deal, supposedly. 

There wasn’t much he could do in the way of blocking a wave of fire shooting from the chimera’s jaws, however, not without a water fountain nearby - so he just yelled at everyone to duck. They did, thankfully. The little boy wasn’t even tall enough to really need to. Still, they’d just torced a national monument, and he didn't think they’d get anywhere near the emergency doors again, with how the fire had blown a hole through them, and the structure itself. 

Rushing in and hoping to end this fight quickly, Percy raised Riptide and aimed for where the beast’s heart should be. He remembered making the mistake of going for the neck last time, and how the dog collar had thoroughly spoiled that attempt. The chimera howled, keening as it dropped to the floor - not quite dead yet, though, by the lack of a sulphur explosion. Just as he was about to bring his sword down to the final blow, he felt something pierce his thigh. The chimera’s scorpion tail. By the gods, he was an idiot. 

Stumbling back, Percy swiped in a wide arc, getting the creature one last time in the face. He hoped he’d blinded the thing. As he stumbled further back, towards the hole in the wall, he had an idea. Not a good idea, by any means, but an idea. 

Sixty stories. Six hundred feet in the air. He and his friends had messed around with the range of his powers before, as semi-adults. Mostly for pranks. Like making a life-size of Leo out of water, and watching his reaction from behind a building. But for practical purposes, he’d never tried to interact with water more than maybe two hundred feet away from him. He could feel it, of course, hear its call - but that was very different from being able to call on its strength and bend it to his will. At this point, though? He’s willing to try just about anything before jumping out of the building, confidence in the water’s ability to save him be damned. 

So, reaching up to feel the charms around his neck to grund him a bit more, Percy reaches out and practically begs. He begs for the water to listen to him, for this father to give him strength, for the strength to save these people even as the poison in his veins weakens him by the second. 

And feels nothing. The water can’t reach him from here, it can’t help. What was he thinking? This was such s dumb idea, and the chimera is growling at him again, Echene (or whatever her name is) is screetching at him and stalking closer- 

But then he hears it. Hears the call of the river below, reaching up, however faintly, to protect and serve it’s master. Creeping up the side of the Arch like a serpent made entirely of calm waves of river water, it comes to him. A little slow for his liking, and it’s probably causing the mortals down below to freak out, but all he can feel is relief at the sight. 

Pushing himself to his feet, Percy tightens his physical grip in Riptide, and mental grips on the waves answering his call. As they finally reach him, just moments away from the chimera’s mother eviscerating him, the room floods. He remembered at the last second to leave a pocket of air for the family and park ranger still up there with him, but he leaves the monsters to drown. 

Well, they won’t actually drown, he’s not going to give them that much time to recover and possibly make a counter-attack. Instead, he lets the water rejuvenate him, before rushing forward faster than he could ever move on land, and ends the pitiful chimera with a final stab of Riptide through it’s ribs. Echidna (right, she was named like those anteaters in Australia!) screams, or tries too, but only gurgles on what has replaced the room’s air. He goes with a classic, and pierces her right through the chest. She manages to claw him up pretty good in the process, and the look in her eyes as she disappears in a cloud of sulphur is mildly terrifying, but then it’s over. 

He lets the room drain, leaving everything just as dry as it’d been before the place was flooded, and follows the water down to avoid having to explain things to the mortals he left behind. Emergency services would get to them soon, with all the commotion going on. 

It’s peaceful, at the bottom of the river. So much so that Percy never wants to leave. He’d landed softly on the muddy floor of the river, but wasn’t any wetter or muddier for doing so. He let himself lie flat on his back, feeling the coolness of the water around him. Percy stared up at the sky above, the image blurred by the gentle waves on the surface of the water, but the bright afternoon sky and the Golden Arch standing proudly (with only one hole and some scorch marks to mar it) in the sky. 

He sighed, knowing his friends were probably getting pretty worried by now, and that he’d have to come up sooner or later anyways. They had a quest to finish. There was one thing he had to do first, though 

Sitting up and bowing his head, Percy muttered a prayer of thanks to his father. Not that Poesidon himself had done much in this battle, but it was the polite thing to thank one’s godly parent after using their power in a fight and winning. It was also customary to curse one’s godly parent if they’d gone at it with all their godly inheritance and lost. 

A woman’s voice echoed around him as he kicked off the ground and started swimming towards the surface. He acknowledged her with a smile and a nod, but already knew pretty much what she had to say. 

_ Percy, you must go to Santa Monica, and do not trust the gifts! _

“Thanks, mom.” 

He surfaced not far from a floating McDonalds, and made his way ashore there. A little girl pointed and waved at him to her mother, begging her mom to look at the boy who came out of the river completely dry, but the parent paid Percy no mind. 

A news lady was talking for the camera: "Probably not a terrorist attack, we're told, but it's still very early in the investigation. The damage, as you can see, is very serious. We're trying to get to some of the survivors, to question them about eyewitness reports of someone falling from the Arch. There was also some unusual activity from the St. Louis River, as many saw just twenty minutes ago, which we have been assured is being investigated by the city’s water and sewage management facilities."

He sighed in relief. Nothing too crazy in the reports so far, at least. Keeping as much distance from any camera or police as he could, Percy searched for his friends. He’d be surprised if he hadn’t worn most of the cheap paint on the charms of his necklace by now. 

"... an adolescent boy," another reporter was saying. "Channel Five has learned that surveillance cameras show an adolescent boy going wild on the observation deck, somehow setting off this freak explosion. Hard to believe, John, but that's what we're hearing. Again, no confirmed fatalities ..."

Mentally, he slammed his head into a wall a few times. He’d just about lost hope of ever finding Annabeth and Grover when a familiar voice bleated, "Perrr-cy!"

He turned and got tackled by Grover's bear hug - or goat hug. He said, "We thought you'd gone to Hades the hard way!"

Annabeth stood behind him, trying to look angry, but even she seemed relieved to see the son of Poesidon in one piece.

"We can't leave you alone for five minutes! What happened?"

"I sort of jumped? But it’s okay, the river was-" He tried to explain, knowing that it probably wouldn’t help much. 

"Percy! Six hundred and thirty feet?"

Behind them, a cop shouted, "Gangway!" The crowd parted, and a couple of paramedics hustled out, rolling a woman on a stretcher. Percy recognized her immediately as the mother of the little boy who'd been on the observation deck. She was saying, "And then this huge dog, this huge fire-breathing Chihuahua—"

"Okay, ma'am," the paramedic said. "Just calm down. Your family is fine. The medication is to kick in."

"I'm not crazy! This boy killed the monster and it’s owner, then he jumped-" Then she saw him. "There he is! That's the boy!"

Percy turned quickly and pulled Annabeth and Grover after him. The three of them disappeared into the crowd.

"What's going on?" Annabeth demanded. "Was she talking about the Chihuahua on the elevator?"

He told them the whole story of the Chimera, Echidna, his (admittedly risky) high-dive act, and the underwater message from a woman made of water who sounded suspiciously like his mother.

"Whoa," said Grover. "We've got to get you to Santa Monica! You can't ignore a summons from your dad."

Nearby, another reporter spoke, "Percy Jackson. That's right, Dan. Channel Twelve has learned that the boy who may have caused this explosion fits the description of a young man wanted by authorities for a serious New Jersey bus accident three days ago. And the boy is believed to be traveling west. For our viewers at home, here is a photo of Percy Jackson."

They ducked around the news van and slipped into an alley.

"First things first," Percy said to his best friend. "We've got to get out of town!"

Somehow, they all made it back to the Amtrak station without getting spotted. They got on board the train just before it pulled out for Denver. The train trundled west as darkness fell, police lights still pulsing against the St. Louis skyline in the distance.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 10: Ares Sucks. Like, a Lot.

The next afternoon, seven days before the Summer Solstice, they rolled into Denver. They hadn’t eaten since the night before in their car, somewhere near Kansas. There hadn’t been any showers since Camp Half-Blood, which was probably pretty obvious, and it only made it harder knowing they’d be presented with the perfect opportunity for one soon that they’d have to turn down. 

"Let's try to contact Chiron," Annabeth said. "I want to tell him about your talk with the river spirit." 

“Okay, sure,” Percy shrugged. “Let’s find a hose, I still have a drachma left, I think.”

They found a car wash after about a half-hour of wandering around, (like  _ he’s  _ going to remember how they got there the first time around, sue him) and Grover dug in his pockets for some change. He only had fifty cents, so Percy gave him two dimes and a nickel, the only loose change he had. There were three waded-up ones in his pocket, but the machine didn’t take those.

Grover pointed the nozzle in the air and water hissed out in a thick white mist. The light afternoon sun filtered through the vapor, making a decent rainbow. 

“Drachma, please,” Annabeth said, palm out. He passed her the golden coin, watching her flick it at the rainbow with a prayer and a call of, “Half-Blood hill.”

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then he was looking through the mist at strawberry fields, and the Long Island Sound in the distance. They seemed to be on the porch of the Big House. Standing with his back to them at the railing was a sandy-haired guy in shorts and an orange tank top. He was holding a bronze sword and seemed to be staring intently at something down in the meadow.

"Luke!" Percy called, trying not to grit his teeth.

He turned, eyes wide. He moved closer to them, until only his head and part of his torso was visible through the screen of mist. 

"Percy!" His scarred face broke into a grin. "Is that Annabeth and Grover, too? Thank the gods! Are you guys okay?"

"We're ... uh ... fine," Annabeth stammered. She was madly straightening her dirty T-shirt, trying to comb the loose hair out of her face. "We thought - Chiron - I mean-"

"He's down at the cabins." Luke's smile faded. "We're having some issues with the campers. Listen, is everything cool with you? Guys? Did something happen?”

Just then a big Lincoln Continental pulled into the car wash with its stereo turned to maximum hip-hop. As the car slid into the next stall, the bass from the subwoofers vibrated so much, it shook the pavement.

"Chiron had to—what's that noise?" Luke yelled.

"I'll take care of it.'" Annabeth yelled back, looking very relieved to have an excuse to get out of sight. "Grover, come on!

"What?" Grover said. "But—"

"Give Percy the nozzle and come on!" she ordered.

Grover muttered something about girls being harder to understand than the Oracle at Delphi, then he handed Percy the spray gun and followed Annabeth.

He readjusted the hose so he could keep the rainbow going and still see Luke.

"Chiron had to break up a fight," Luke shouted over the music. "Things are pretty tense here, Percy. Word leaked out about the Zeus-Poseidon standoff. We're still not sure how - probably the same scumbag who summoned the hellhound. Now the campers are starting to take sides. It's shaping up like the Trojan War all over again. Aphrodite, Ares, and Apollo are backing Poseidon, more or less. Athena is backing Zeus."

Nice to know that Luke had basically just admitted to spreading the news to everyone just to cause chaos. Not that anyone would ever be able to prove it, it’s practically impossible to find the true source of a rumor just by following the chain of “who heard it from who”, and the guy would never admit it. Percy may regret the way that Luke had to go out, in the end, but that didn’t excuse his actions in life.

"So what's your status?" Luke aske. "Chiron will be sorry he missed you."

“We’re alright,” Percy said, wanting to mislead the son of Hermes but hoping that maybe, just maybe he would pass on one honest message to Chiron. “Could you tell Chiron we’re taking a little detour to Santa Monica? Pretty sure my dad’s summoning me, but you know - cryptic messages and all.” 

"Sure man, I’ll let him know. I wish I could be there," Luke told him through the mist. "We can't help much from here, I'm afraid, but listen - you have to hurry to Hades's realm after this detour, alright? You only have a week left, you know.”

Good job being subtle about wanting your precious little adventurers to take a trip downstairs so one of them can get dragged down into a pit holding the most evil Titan in existence. 

In the stall next to them, the music stopped completely. A man screamed in terror, car doors slammed, and the Lincoln peeled out of the car wash.

"You'd better go see what that was," Luke said. "Listen, are you wearing the flying shoes? I'll feel better if I know they've done you some good."

“Yep!” Percy lied with a grin. “I think I’m really starting to get the hang of them, you know? I tried ‘em on a few days ago and wasn’t immediately blasted to bits by the big guy in the sky, so I guess it’s all right. Thanks a lot, by the way, Luke.”

Luke shared his grin. “Really? The fit and everything?”

The mist cycle started to slow down and sputter, messing up the image. 

"Well, take care of yourself out there in Denver," Luke called, his voice getting fainter. "And tell Grover it'll be better this time! Nobody will get turned into a pine tree if he just-"

But the mist was gone, and Luke's image faded to nothing.

Annabeth and Grover ran back over to the stall. 

“What happened, what’d he say?” Wise girl asked. 

“Not much, I asked him to pass on the info to Chiron. He told Grover not to worry, that this time would be better.”

The satyre looked a little embarrassed to hear that, but also relieved. 

“C’mon, let's go find somewhere to eat, guys.”

A few minutes later, they found themselves sitting at a booth in a gleaming chrome diner. All around them, families were eating burgers and drinking malts and sodas.

Percy convinced his friends to keep their heads down and look like they were concentrating on the menus to deter the waitress for a minute. It looked like they wanted to protest, but something stopped them from doing so. He hoped that meant they trusted his judgment a little more than their hunger for now. 

Finally, the waitress looked at them exasperatedly from across the diner, and started making her way over, when a motorcycle the size of a baby elephant rumbled into the parking lot outside. Right on time as always, he thought a little grimly. At least the guy was polite enough to buy food for them first, last time. Percy could only hope the guy’s mind hadn’t changed.

The god of war, Ares, stepped into the diner dressed in a red muscle shirt and black jeans and a black leather duster, with a hunting knife strapped to his thigh. His oily black crew-cut and scarred face were as unwelcoming as always, but at least the red wrap-around shades hid the eyes that could drive any man to mass homicide. 

As he walked into the diner, a hot, dry wind blew through the place. All the people rose, as if they were hypnotized, but the biker waved his hand dismissively and they all sat down again. Everybody went back to their conversations. The waitress blinked, as if somebody had just pressed the rewind button on her brain. She closed the last bit of distance between herself and the table and asked them, “Well?” With a skeptical eyebrow. 

Ares said, “They’re food’s on me,” as he slipped into their booth that was way too small for him, crowding Annabeth against the window. 

He looked up at the waitress, who was gaping at him, and said, "Are you still here?"

He pointed at her, and she stiffened. She turned as if she'd been spun around, then marched back toward the kitchen.

Ares turned his gaze towards Percy, and he grinned wickedly. The half-blood was more than aware that the rage and disgust roiling in his gut was completely artificial - or at least, would normally be as repressed as all the rest of his emotions were on quests. You learned to stop feeling as much when you have a job to do, and just let it all out when the work was done, after enough quests and bloodshed. 

Clenching his fists, and letting the warmth of his own blood - his own life force - keep him grounded as he stared down the god of war like the man he was, in every way but physically. He knew the god could see the war in Percy’s mind, saw the eyes of a verteran and active soldier all at once. 

"So you're old Seaweed's kid, huh?"

“Yeah. And you’re the god of war, violence, and strife. Ares.” 

He nodded. “I heard you broke little Clarisse’s spear.” 

“Everyone loses something in battle, even the winner. She’s lucky I didn’t take something more permanent.” 

"That's cool. I don't fight my kids' fights, you know? What I'm here for - I heard you were in town. I got a little proposition for you."

The waitress came back with heaping trays of food—cheeseburgers, fries, onion rings, and chocolate shakes.

Ares handed her a few gold drachmas.

She looked nervously at the coins. "But, these aren't..."

Ares pulled out his huge knife and started cleaning his fingernails. "Problem, sweetheart?"

The waitress swallowed, then left with the gold.

Annabeth and Grover looked uneasy at that - but Percy knew if the diner pawned those off or melted them down, they’d be worth far more than the cost of the meal. If the gods didn’t strike the waitress down for daring to defile their sacred currency, he thought bitterly. 

“Right, so I need you to do a favor for me, kid.” 

“What could I possibly do for you that you can’t do with your own power already?”

"Something a god doesn't have time to do himself. It's nothing much. I left my shield at an abandoned water park here in town. I was going on a little ... date with my girlfriend. We were interrupted. I left my shield behind. I want you to fetch it for me."

“Why would I want to do that?”

“A god is giving you an opportunity to prove yourself, Percy Jackson. Will you prove yourself a coward?" He leaned forward. "Or maybe you only fight when there's a river to dive into, so your daddy can protect you."

Percy carefully reached for the napkin dispenser, not breaking eye-contact with Ares. He dabbed at the nail-marks bleeding lazily in his palms. 

“I have nothing to prove to you. If we go get your shield, you have to give us something in return. Otherwise, we’ll just get back to our quest, thanks.” He couldn’t ask for something too crazy, like the master bolt, right off the bat. Accusations like that, even if they’re true, are what get you turned into a gopher in the world of the gods. 

“You know what, kid? Sure. I’m a generous guy. Get me my shield, and I’ll help you guys on your way. I even have some information you might be interested in, something about someone important to you. The water park is a mile west on Delancy. You can't miss it. Look for the Tunnel of Love ride."

He snorted. “Someone interrupt your date? Maybe she has another guy who scared you off?”

"You're lucky you met me, punk, and not one of the other Olympians. They're not as forgiving of rudeness as I am. I'll meet you back here when you're done. Don't disappoint me." Percy wasn’t really intimidated by those words - he knew that look. That facial expression that said ‘I’m scared and just pretending I’m angry to hide it’. He’d been guilty of that move a few times himself though, so he wouldn’t point it out to the god. 

With that, Ares was there one moment and completely gone the next. One blink, and he was gone. Even his motorcycle. Neat trick. 

"Not good," Grover said. "Ares sought you out, Percy. This is not good."

“Do you think he meant your mother? When he said someone important, I mean,” Annabeth asked.

He just picked up a burger and started eating. They weren’t going to get another chance to eat at the water park, so he was going to take advantage of this. There was enough that they’d probably need a to-go box too, which would be nice. His friends were less enthusiastic about their meals, but he couldn’t blame them. Meeting the god of war for the first time was tough for everybody. 

The sun was sinking behind the mountains by the time they found the water park. Looking up at the familiar sign, Percy snorted at the missing letters that made it now say WAT R A D. The main gate was padlocked and topped with barbed wire. Inside, huge dry water slides and tubes and pipes curled everywhere, leading to empty pools. Old tickets and advertisements fluttered around the asphalt. With night coming on, the place looked just as creepy as he remembered. 

“So, how’re we getting in?” Percy asked. 

They both looked at him. 

“What?”

“This is a  _ water  _ park, Perce.” 

“And what am I supposed to do, huh? This place is so dry it’d take ages to call any water over here.”

His friends nodded, and begrudgingly they all started climbing the fence, holding the barbed wire down for each other at the top. Grover had a bit of a time with his hooves, but they all made it after a few minutes. 

The shadows grew longer as they searched for the tunnel of love, and eventually came by the gift shop. He and Annabeth shared a look, and they walked inside. Fresh clothes would be nice, even if they didn’t have a shower. 

Annabeth snatched an entire row of stuff off the racks and disappeared into the changing room. A few minutes later she came out in Waterland flower-print shorts, a big red Waterland T-shirt, and commemorative Waterland surf shoes. A Waterland backpack was slung over her shoulder, switched out for her old one and obviously stuffed with more goodies. 

"What the heck." Grover shrugged. Soon, all three of them were decked out like walking advertisements for the defunct theme park.

Searching for the tunnel of love once more, he decided to strike up some conversation to make the place feel a little less unnerving. 

“So, Ares and Aphrodite came here for a date and got spooked, huh? Must have been something big. Think it was Hephestus? I think I’d be a bit bitter too, if my wife ran off to have dates with another guy all the time.”

"I mean, it’d make sense," Annabeth said. "He caught them together once. I mean, literally caught them, in a golden net, and invited all the gods to come and laugh at them. Hephaestus is always trying to embarrass them. That's why they meet in out-of-the-way places, like..."

She stopped, looking straight ahead. "Like that."

In front of them was an empty pool that would've been awesome for skateboarding. It was at least fifty yards across and shaped like a bowl. Around the rim, a dozen bronze statues of Cupid stood guard with wings spread and bows ready to fire. On the opposite side from the trio, a tunnel opened up, where the water flowed into when the pool was full. The sign above it read, THRILL RIDE O' LOVE: THIS IS NOT YOUR PARENTS' TUNNEL OF LOVE!

Grover crept toward the edge. "Guys, look."

Marooned at the bottom of the pool was a pink-and-white two-seater boat with a canopy over the top and little hearts painted all over it. In the left seat, glinting in the fading light, was Ares's shield, a polished circle of bronze.

“This looks too easy, guys,” Percy muttered. 

Annabeth ran her fingers along the base of the nearest Cupid statue.

"There's a Greek letter carved here," she said. "Eta. I wonder ..."

“Yeah, I’m not going down there. Stand back guys, I’m just gonna flood the pool and bring the boat to us. Grover, go turn the ride on/”

His friends nodded, the satyr sending a thumbs up and running back over when he’d flipped the switch. He wasn’t entirely sure if doing this would set off the trap, but it was better than getting stuck down there again. 

Searching for the ancient, rusty pipes that ran through the park, Percy found a few that were what he was looking for - the ones that filled the tunnel of love when the park was active. Taking a deep breath, and crouching to the ground and splaying his hands on the concrete, he felt the water rush towards him, almost instinctively. The trapped waves knew where they wanted to go, and rushed through the piping until the several openings around the entrance to the tunnel of love sputtered and suddenly started spraying several gallons a second into the pool. 

Before long, the boat below was floating, and Percy directed the flow of the water to push it their way. But moving the boat must have activated the trap anyways, because the cupid statues had activated. Thankfully they weren’t shooting  _ at  _ anyone, but they were quickly forming a net of golden rope, and if he wasn’t quick enough the boat would be trapped, with Ares’s shield on it. 

The Cupids' heads popped open. Out came video cameras. Spotlights rose up all around the pool, blinding them with illumination, and a loudspeaker voice boomed: "Live to Olympus in one minute ... Fifty-nine seconds, fifty-eight ..."

“Hephestus!” Annabeth cursed. “Hurry up, seaweed brain!”

“You wanna try this, wise girl? Let me concentrate!”

Before he could refocus on getting the bat to them - it was maybe ten yards from them now, so close, if he could just calm down and get the waves to be a little less like a barely-restrained whirlpool… 

And then the spiders came. They were less effective, considering they all landed in water almost immediately from where they sprouted behind the line of mirrors, but Annabeth still freaked out. 

"Spiders!" She cried. "Sp-sp-aaaah!"

He thought she’d faint, but she just scrambled away from the pool, and he and Grover were left to retrieve the shield alone. The satyr was trying to help by keeping a section of the net upen, but every time he touched it the ropes tried to wrap around his arms. 

Just five more meters, four, almost close enough to just reach over and grab - then Grover ran forward and reached into the boat as it crashed into the side of the pool. Yanking his friend back, Percy saw that he’d also grabbed Aphroddieite’s scarf, which was a horrible tragedy, honestly.

Gover looked all giggly and content to hold the thing, until Annabeth marched back over and snatched it from him, throwing it a few feet away. Boys being stupid was enough to get her over her fear of spiders at least temporarily. She still wouldn’t go anywhere near the pool. 

“Four, three, two, one  _ zero _ -” the disembodied voice announced.

The cameras turned on, and Percy smirked a little and how disappointed Hephestus would be. All that was left for the cameras to see was a dented boat floating aimlessly among a pool of dead mechanical spiders. 

The cupid heads swirled around until they zeroes in on the trio, and Percy waved. “Sorry folks, looks like you tuned in too late! Show’s over!”

The Cupids turned back to their original positions. The lights shut off. The park went quiet and dark again, except for the gentle trickle of water into the Thrill Ride of Love's exit pool. 

It was time to go see Ares. 


	12. Chapter 11: One Santa Monica, Hold the Lotus Please

Ares was waiting for them in the diner parking lot. 

“Well, well,” he said. “You didn’t get yourselves killed.”

Percy threw the god his shield from a few feet away, not wanting to get any closer if he didn’t have to. 

“Tell your girlfriend she left her scarf back at the park. She might want to find some demigods of her own to go fetch it.” 

Ares grabbed the shield and spun it in the air like pizza dough. It changed form, melting into a bulletproof vest. He slung it across his back.

"See that truck over there?" He pointed to an eighteen-wheeler parked across the street from the diner. "That's your ride. Take you straight to L.A., with one stop in Vegas."

The eighteen-wheeler had a sign on the back, which he could read only because it was reverse-printed white on black, a good combination for dyslexia: KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL: HUMANE ZOO TRANSPORT. WARNING: LIVE WILD ANIMALS.

“Wonderful. Really, thank you your majesty,” Percy said, casting a glance back at the war god. Annabeth looked ready to hit him over the head, and Grover shuffled nervously.

Ares snapped his fingers. The back door of the truck unlatched. "Free ride west, punk. Stop complaining. And here's a little something for doing the job."

He slung a blue nylon backpack off his handlebars and tossed it to me.

Inside were fresh clothes for all of us, twenty bucks in cash, a pouch full of golden drachmas, and a bag of Double Stuf Oreos.

_ Never let it be said that the gods aren’t generous _ , he thought a little sourly.

He looked back at the diner, which had only a couple of customers now. The waitress who'd served them dinner was watching nervously out the window, like she was afraid Ares might hurt them.

She dragged the fry cook out from the kitchen to see. She said something to him. He nodded, held up a little disposable camera and snapped a picture of the group. 

The scene tickled the back of his mind, like it was something important. Realistically, it probably was, and he was just forgetting. Again. 

“You also said you had information, Ares. ABout someone important.” 

“Someone important to  _ you,  _ kid. I don’t give a damn about your mom. She isn’t dead, she’s being kept. She was turned into a shower of gold, right? That's metamorphosis, not death.” 

Percy’s shoulders slumped, and he sighed in relief. He’d been operating under the assumption that his mom hadn’t actually died this time, but it was still good to hear it aloud. 

"We'll meet again, Percy Jackson. Next time you're in a fight, watch your back." He revved his Harley, then roared off down Delancy Street.

"Hey, guys," Grover said, pointing toward the diner. At the register, the last two customers were paying their check, two men in identical black coveralls, with a white logo on their backs that matched the one on the KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL truck.

"If we're taking the zoo express," Grover said, "we need to hurry."

They ran across the street and climbed in the back of the big rig, closing the doors behind them. The smell was as awful as he’d remembered. 

Uncapping Anaklusmos, the dark trailer lit up just enough to unveil a pathetic sight. A zebra, a male abino lion, and something that looked sort of like an antelope all sat in their cages. The lion had a sack of turnips at his feet, and the antelope and zebra had styrofoam plates of hamburger meat. The zebra had gum in its hair and the antelope had a balloon tied to one of its horns. The lion had flies hovering around its face and was panting in the stuffy trailer.

Immediately, Percy set Riptide against one wall, and ran over to the Zebra. Mentally, he called to the animal as he slid the tray of meat under the small opening at the bottom of the cage. Grover helped him rearrange the animal’s food, giving the meat to the lion and splitting the turnips between the zebra and antelope. Annabeth refilled their water dishes with a jug in one corner. 

_ Lord! Lord Perceus! _

“Hey, it’s alright now, I promise, we’ll get you guys out of here soon, alright?” 

_ Thank you lord, truly you are kind, thank you-  _

“None of that. This is just cruel, what they're doing to you.” 

He reached through the bars to gently stroke the zebra’s muzzle, and gently tried to remove the gum. Annabeth offered her knife, asking him “You can talk to animals too?” a little incredulously. 

“Only horses, and horse-like animals, I guess. Poseidon made horses, remember? I can speak to marine life too, obviously.” 

“Right,” she nodded. They got most of the gum out before the truck doors slammed, and the truck rumbled to life. As it moved forward, they were forced to sit down or get thrown. Annabeth went to cut the balloon off the antelope's horn as Grover calmed it, as that required less dexterity than gummed-hair. 

“Hey,” he spoke to the zebra once more. “Can you tell the others we’re going to set you guys free, when the truck stops next?”

_ Of course, lord Perceus.  _

While Percy would like to think the lion wouldn’t try to hurt any of them considering how they were trying to help, he still kept a distance as he sat in front of the cage with the jug of water from earlier. He couldn’t really make the water cold and refreshing, but it looked like the creature appreciated it when he commanded a handful of the liquid to wash the dirt and grime from its face. Hopefully that’d help with some of the swelling and pinkness around the eyes, but it’d be best for the lion to get away from such a nasty cage.

Grover settled against a bag of turnips when all was quiet, and Annabeth opened the pack of double-stuff oreos.

"Hey," Annabeth said, "I'm sorry for freaking out back at the water park, Percy."

"That's okay."

"It's just..." She shuddered. "Spiders."

"Because of the Arachne story,” he said, not really a question. “She got turned into a spider for challenging your mom to a weaving contest."

Annabeth nodded. "Arachne's children have been taking revenge on the children of Athena ever since. If there's a spider within a mile of me, it'll find me. I hate the creepy little things. Anyway, I owe you."

“No problem. We’re a team, right? Besides, Grover’s the one who grabbed the shield, in the end.” 

“I was pretty amazing, wasn’t I?” Grover mumbled. 

She and Percy laughed good-naturedly. 

She pulled apart an Oreo, handed him half. "In the Iris message ... did Luke really say nothing?"

“Well… he said the camp was splitting into factions. Those who are supporting Zeus and those who are supporting Poesidon. It’s a bit chaotic, that’s why Chiron couldn’t answer the Iris message.” He volunteered. 

Annabeth looked conflicted. 

With neither of his friends saying anything, he felt a little suffocated, Percy felt around his neck for his charm necklace, and worried at one of the charms - a unicorn, he thinks, by the feel of it. 

“You do that a lot,” she commented.

“What?” 

“With your necklace, I mean.”

“Oh, yeah. Just makes me feel better, I guess. I started-” he’d almost said ‘I started doing it more after leaving camp,’ but caught himself. “My therapist said it’s an anxiety thing. A stim.” It’s not like he was embarrassed about going to a shrink, it’d just never worked well for him.

“I’ve heard about things like that. Like using up nervous energy, it feels better to be doing something, and certain textures and sounds can be comforting.”

Grover said something low, something he and Annabeth couldn’t hear. 

“Yeah, g-man?”

“You never told me you saw a therapist. I mean- not that you had to! That’s your life, I just-” 

“It’s fine, I get it. It’s kinda weird to think about, right? Guess I never said anything ‘cause it didn’t work out, in the end. Just never felt right to me, sitting there and talking about my feelings.” 

“Did it help at all, though? Even a little?” Annabeth asked. 

“I guess. We found better coping mechanisms and stuff than-” fighting until he passed out, not eating for days because he just didn’t want to, lashing out and yelling at his friends, “-what I was doing before.” 

“Like the necklace.” 

“Like the necklace,” he nodded. 

It felt good to have that out in the air. 

Maybe he should have brought up Annabeth’s past, let her air out her feelings about Thalia’s death, but… it felt wrong, knowing all of their secrets when they knew so little about him. Opening up about his own hurt might make it easier for them to come to him about theirs, without him needing to direct the conversation that way. 

Annabeth worried at her own necklace, mainly at the gold ring. They heard Grover’s snores eventually, and Percy settled in to get some rest. 

Wise girl chose to speak up, then.

“You know about the camp necklaces? The painted beads, that signify the most important event of each year.” 

“Yeah. Why?” 

“The first one I ever got was Thalia’s tree. I was one of the half-bloods that traveled with Thaila and her-”

“With Grover. I know he was her satyr.”

She nodded. “Luke was the other half-blood. I’ve said we go back a while, haven’t I? Thalia was twelve. Luke was fourteen. They'd both run away from home, like me. They were happy to take me with them. They were ... amazing monster-fighters, even without training. We traveled north from Virginia without any real plans, fending off monsters for about two weeks before Grover found us."

“He feels guilty about her turning into a tree, but it wasn’t his fault.” 

“Of course not. It’s not his fault Hades was chasing us, or that the Furies caught up quickly. Thalia was just trying to protect the camp, and us.”

After a moment of silence, he tried to lighten the mood by asking about the other camp beads. 

She described a Greek trireme on fire, a centaur in a prom dress, all of the until eventually they landed at the ring. 

"It’s your father’s, isn’t it?” He asked. “You don't have to tell me about it."

"No ... it's okay." She took a shaky breath. "My dad sent it to me folded up in a letter, two summers ago. The ring was, like, his main keepsake from Athena. He wouldn't have gotten through his doctoral program at Harvard without her.... That's a long story. Anyway, he said he wanted me to have it. He apologized for being a jerk, said he loved me and missed me. He wanted me to come home and live with him."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"Yeah, well... the problem was, I believed him. I tried to go home for that school year, but my stepmom was the same as ever. She didn't want her kids put in danger by living with a freak. Monsters attacked. We argued. Monsters attacked. We argued. I didn't even make it through winter break. I called Chiron and came right back to Camp Half-Blood."

“Think you’ll ever want to see him again? You know, for closure.”

“Thanks, but I’m not into self-inflicted pain. That wouldn’t bring me any closure.” 

“You never know. You could just send him a letter, even, telling him how you feel. Maybe he’ll realize he was wrong. You could live with him, have a family again. I mean, I’m not exactly a huge fan of Poesidon for what he got my mom mixed up with, but he’s still… my dad, you know?” 

“My father’s made his choice about who he wants to be with, Percy. A letter isn’t going to change that.” 

They passed a few miles by, one again in silence. Percy had one more thing he wanted to say though, before trying to sleep. 

“You know I’d do anything for you, right? Anytime you need help, someone to fight by your side…” 

“Of course I know that, seaweed brain. We’re friends, aren’t we?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, we are wise girl.” 

He fell into the darkness of a less-than-fitful sleep with a smile. 

His nightmare started out fairly normal. Normal for someone like Percy Jackson, anyway. He wasn’t in his adult body, but somewhere closer to seventeen or eighteen, and was standing in a silent battlefield.. Not silent because nothing was happening, but the sort of ear-ringing silence that came after an explosion, or good hit to the head. He could see figures darting through the smoke, felt water rushing somewhere nearby, smelled and even tasted blood in the air and on his lips, for whatever reason. Maybe he’d bitten his tongue. 

He glanced to his left, and saw Thalia standing there, struggling to get her bearings as well. Was she also deafened? It was hard to tell, but he didn’t think so. Her eyes were still green, but not the striking, stormy color he remembered. They were milky and he couldn’t see her pupils. She’d been blinded. 

Somehow, the daughter of Zeus looked almost directly into his eyes anyway, her face challenging him as if to say,  _ Well, one of us needs to get out of here, kid.  _

Percy nodded at her, determined. Suddenly, the sounds of battle came buzzing in his ears, the screech of metal on metal, of blood spattering in the dirt. Riptide was in his hands, and he charged into the swirling dust and smoke, huge waves of pure seawater finding its way under his feet to urge him forward. On the other side of the dust, however, wasn’t the same empty plains he’d been standing in before. It was the cave where Kronos resided in his pit, the ancient and chilling voice echoing from an incomprehensible distance below. 

_ Percy Jackson _ , it said.  _ Yes, the exchange went well, I see. _

The voice wasn’t addressing him, though, Percy knew. 

_ And he suspects nothing? _ it asked.

Another voice, one he clearly recognized, answered at his shoulder.  _ Nothing, my lord. He is as ignorant as the rest. _

_ Deception upon deception _ , Kronos mused from the pit.  _ Excellent. _

_ Truly, my lord, _ said Luke Castellan,  _ you are well-named the Crooked One. But was it really necessary? I could have brought you what I stole directly - _

_ You? _ the Titan said in scorn.  _ You have already shown your limits. You would have failed me completely had I not intervened. _

_ But, my lord- _

_ Peace, little servant. Our six months have bought us much. Zeus's anger has grown. Poseidon has played his most desperate card. Now we shall use it against him. Shortly you shall have the you wish, and your revenge. As soon as both items are delivered into my hands ... but wait. He is here. _

_ What?  _ Luke sounded tense all of the sudden. _ You summoned him, my lord? _

_ No.  _ The full force of the Titan’s attention was now pouring over him, freezing Percy in place.

_ Blast his father's blood - he is too changeable, too unpredictable. The boy brought himself hither. _

_ Impossible!  _ Luke cried.

_ For a weakling such as you, perhaps,  _ Kronos snarled _.  _ Then his cold power turned back on the son of the sea god.

_ So ... you wish to dream of your quest, young half-blood? Then I will oblige. _

The scene changed.

He was standing in a vast throne room with black marble walls and bronze floors. His uncle’s throne was, as it always had been, made from human bones fused together. Standing at the foot of the dais was his mother, frozen in shimmering golden light, her arms outstretched.

Percy tried to step toward her, but his legs wouldn't move. He reached for her, only to realize that his hands were withering to bones. Grinning skeletons in Greek armor crowded around, draping him with silk robes, wreathing his head with laurels that smoked with Chimera poison, burning into his scalp.

The evil voice began to laugh.  _ Hail, the conquering hero! _

He woke with a start to someone shaking him. Before he was all that aware of what he was doing, he had Riptide drawn and pressed into the throat of his would-be attacker. 

Until he blinked the sleepiness out of his eyes, and recognized Grover was the one he had pinned. He scrambled back and apologized to his friend, recapping his sword. 

“Jeez, Perce, what’s gotten into you?”

“Sorry, just… had a bad dream. You startled me.” 

His friend nodded wearily. “Well the truck’s stopped, we-”

“We don’t have time for this, hide!” Annabeth barked in a stage whisper, before putting on her invisibility cap. 

Percy and Grover dove behind stacks of feed and tried to look like turnips. He tried to convey a sincere apology to the satyr with his eyes, but wasn’t too sure about the overall success, at the angle they were sitting. 

"Man!" one of the truckers said, waving his hand in front of his ugly nose. "I wish I hauled appliances." He climbed inside and poured some water from a jug into the animals' dishes.

"You hot, big boy?" he asked the lion, then splashed the rest of the bucket right in the lion's face.

The lion roared in indignation.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the man said.

Next to him, under the turnip sacks, Grover tensed. His friend looked downright murderous. 

The trucker threw the antelope a squashed-looking Happy Meal bag. He smirked at the zebra.

"How ya doin', Stripes? Least we'll be getting rid of you this stop. You like magic shows? You're gonna love this one. They're gonna saw you in half!"

The zebra, wild-eyed with fear, looked straight at Percy.

_ Please act quickly, Lord.  _

_ Way ahead of you, buddy,  _ He conveyed mentally. 

There was a loud  _ knock, knock, knock _ on the side of the trailer.

The trucker inside with them yelled, "What do you want, Eddie?"

A voice outside - it must've been Eddie's - shouted back, "Maurice? What'd ya say?"

"What are you banging for?"

_ Knock, knock, knock. _

Outside, Eddie yelled, "What banging?"

Maurice rolled his eyes and went back outside, cursing at Eddie for being an idiot. A second later, Annabeth appeared next to him and Grover. She must've done the banging to get Maurice out of the trailer. 

She said, "This transport business can't be legal."

"No kidding," Grover said. He paused, as if listening. "The lion says these guys are animal smugglers!"

_ That’s right,  _ the Zebra told him.  _ Open my cage, lord. Please. I'll be fine after that. _

Outside, Eddie and Maurice were still yelling at each other, but Percy knew they'd be coming inside to torment the animals again any minute. He grabbed Riptide and slashed the lock off the zebra's cage.

The zebra burst out, turning to him and bowing. _ Thank you, lord. _

Grover held up his hands and said something to the zebra in goat speak - a blessing, probably. Percy mumbed a quick prayer to his father to see these animals protected, or at least the Zebra as it was under Poesidon’s domain, and another to Hermes for them to find their way somewhere safe. 

Just as Maurice was poking his head back inside to check out the noise, the zebra leaped over him and into the street. There was yelling and screaming and cars honking. The trio rushed to the doors of the trailer in time to see the zebra galloping down a wide boulevard lined with hotels and casinos and neon signs. They'd just released a zebra in Las Vegas.

Maurice and Eddie ran after it, with a few policemen running after them, shouting, "Hey! You need a permit for that!"

"Now would be a good time to leave," Annabeth said.

"The other animals first," Grover said.

Percy broke the other two free, and Grover muttered the same goat-blessing to them. 

“Good luck,” Percy called to the lion and antelope as they left. 

He turned to ask Grover what blessing he’d used on the animals, but apparently his friend was already there. 

"Don't worry," he said. "I placed a satyr's sanctuary on them."

Oh. So his prayers probably didn’t help much anyway. He hoped that it still meant something, even if the animals were already guaranteed to make their way back to a habitable piece of nature. 

They stumbled out into the desert afternoon. It was a hundred and ten degrees, easy, and the three of them must've looked like deep-fried vagrants, but everybody was too interested in the wild animals to pay them much attention.

Passing the Monte Carlo and the MGM, pyramids, a pirate ship, and the Statue of Liberty, (which was a pretty small replica, but still made him a little homesick) they stumbled around aimlessly. Percy dreaded the idea of having to convince his friends to stay away from the one sanctuary from their situation right now, and wondered if he’d even be convincing enough. 

Feeling the dry heat pressing against his skin acutely, Percy wondered about the exact time-conversion between the outside worlds and the casino. They’d stayed for a few hours last time, and passed almost a week, but Bianca and Nico had been there a few weeks and lost decades. There was no way he could risk it with such arbitrary conversion, but that left him looking for a way to get to L.A. without one of those crazy casino cards. 

He thought about the drachmas in his backpack from Ares. No. No, no no, that was a  _ horrible idea, _ but there weren’t any other options he could think of, and there was a bad feeling in his gut. He worried at the charms around his neck, tugged on the leather cord hard enough to leave a deep red impression in his skin, and when he saw the Lotus hotel and Casino down the block he froze completely. 

His friends turned to look at him, saw the expression on his face, and immediately went from slightly agitated at the interruption to concerned. 

“Perce? Everything alright man?” Grover asked. 

Percy yanked the backpack off his shoulders, fished around for the little pouch of drachmas, and pulled one out. Standing straight, he asked them “Do you trust me?” 

Hesitantly, his friends nodded. “Of course, seaweed brain. What is it?”

Turning to the road and holding the drachma up in front of him, he called “Stêthi, Ô hárma diabolês!” 

Annabeth and Grover both looked sufficiently panicked, (not unwisely, he thought) but it was Annabeth who eventually sighed and realized this was the quickest way to L.A. they were going to get. 

The smokey grey taxi materialized, and he opened the door for his friends to slide in. Percy stepped in last, against the passenger-side door. 

“Passage? Passage?” One of the Gray Sisters crowed. 

“Three to Santa Monica Pier,” Percy said. 

“Long ways, for one drachma, demigod.” 

“You’ll get another two on arrival, if we’re still alive.” 

“Done!” One of the women yelled.

He figured one shiny coin for each of them would be enough for any job. 

When the car started, they immediately shot forward and the three campers slammed back against their seats. He was tempted to use one of the thick black chains that replaced seat-belts in this hellride, but decided he wouldn’t be that desperate until they got on the freeway. 

_ Hi, this is Ganymede, cup-bearer to Zeus, and when I’m out buying wine for the Lord of the Skies, I always buckle up!  _ Came the automated message over the speakers. 

Percy grit his teeth, and tried to ignore the looks Annabeth was shooting him. He wasn’t sure if she was more curious about how he knew about this mode of transport, or angry that this is what he’d suggested to get them moving faster. 

He wasn’t even sure who exactly to pray to for a safe ride on this cab, and figured no god had enough power to really save them now. The paint on his unicorn-charm rubbed off on his fingers. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	13. Chapter 12: Water Beds and a Meltdown

It was close to sunset when they arrived on the sandy beaches of Santa Monica. Literally. The Gray Sisters drove them straight onto the beach, blasting sand in a wide radius. Thankfully, the area was mostly void of human life. Passing the sisters two more golden drachmas for the ride, they sped off, blasting more sand - this time on the three adventurers. 

Before they could step towards the coming tide, Percy decided this was the time to firmly state his stance on their quest so far. They still had five days and some change to retrieve the stolen items, but he had a feeling that didn’t mean much to the good ol’ ladies Fate.

“Guys, I really don’t think it’s Hades we’re after. There’s some answers that only going to the Underworld can give us, but… from everything I’ve heard and dreamt so far, I can safely say the Helm of Darkness  _ and  _ Master Bolt are missing. And I think they were taken by the same person - or, at least,  _ for  _ the same person.” 

Grover nodded and accepted his words; Annabeth looked a little more skeptical. 

“Percy, it  _ has  _ to be him. Just because his symbol was also stolen doesn’t mean he didn’t take the bolt.” 

Taking a deep breath, he described his most recent dream to them, minus the fact that it was Luke who’d spoken to Kronos, and that he actually knew one-hundred percent what Kronos sounded like. He also excluded Thalia for both their sake’s, but heavily implied that the voice in the pit wasn't from any god or normal monster. 

“I- I don’t- just - No, it  _ has _ to be Hades. Maybe he sent this thief, this invisible person, to get the master bolt, and something went wrong—"

"Like what?"

"I - I don't know," she said. "But if he stole Zeus's symbol of power from Olympus, and the gods were hunting him, I mean, a lot of things could go wrong. So this thief had to hide the bolt, or he lost it somehow. Anyway, he failed to bring it to Hades. That's what the voice said in your dream, right? The guy failed. That would explain why the Furies came after us on the bus, maybe they thought we had retrieved the bolt."

“But if I had the bolt, why wouldn’t I be bringing it back to Mount Olympus already? Why would we still be going towards the Underworld?”

"To threaten Hades," Grover suggested. "To bribe or blackmail him into getting your mom back."

“Thank you for that vote of confidence in my character, Grover, really - but we only set out on this quest four days ago. There’s no way we’d have it already, and any god in their right mind would realize that. Or at least if we did, they wouldn’t think we could do it. They’re arrogant like that.” 

Annabeth looked like she knew what Percy was getting at, but just stubbornly refused to admit he was right. So he figured he’d let them sit on that thought and think for a minute, and stepped past his friends until he was standing right at the furthest point the water reached at its current tide. 

Then he kept walking, until the water was at his ankles. His knees. The fact that he was wearing shoes didn’t mean anything, and didn’t slow him down one bit. His waist, his chest. His friends were calling for him, asking just what he was doing. That was when Percy’s dead went under the water. 

He keeps walking, down to the shoals. When it got too dark for his eyes to see, he just closed them and let himself feel the world around him. Everything the water touched was his domain, and even without sight Percy could tell exactly where everything was and where he was going. He thought of the Thalia in his dreams - blind, and yet she stared directly into his eyes. 

A five-foot long Mako shark sidled up beside him, nuzzling his hand. Percy smiled and patted its head gently, stroking and scratching in a way that he knew would make the animal purr, if it could. He felt the pleasant mental hum coming from the shark that was essentially the same thing, and it made him feel warm. 

Eventually he came to an underwater cliff - essentially where the last remnants of the beach ended and left nothing but ocean below. Feeling that he deserved a few moments of indulgence after all the stress he’d been put under the past few days, (and his entire life, really) Percy stepped off the edge and let himself sink into the calming, welcoming depths. What may have been terrifying for most people, and even himself as a child, was extremely comforting in a way that he couldn’t describe. It felt like being close to both of his parents, somehow. 

As he sank, (slowly, he did have a limit to how long his friends would wait for him, probably) a woman appeared in front of him, still a little ways away. The voice sounded almost like his mother, like the river spirit before. 

“Percy Jackson,” she said. As she got closer, her shape became clearer. She had flowing black hair, a dress made of green silk. Light flickered around her, and her eyes were distractingly beautiful. Not the steely grey he loved, but objectively pretty nonetheless. She was riding a giant seahorse. 

"You've come far, Percy Jackson. Well done,” the woman spoke again, the Mako shark swimming away at her gesture as she started picking at something that looked like a tag. 

“You’re Nereid, from the river,” he stated. He already knew, but it would have been fairly obvious to anyone who knew their Greek stories. 

“Yes. It was not easy to appear so far upriver, but the naiads, my freshwater cousins, helped sustain my life force. They honor Lord Poseidon, though they do not serve in his court."

“But you do.”

She nodded, “It has been many years since a child of the Sea God has been born. We watched you with great interest.”

“I assume you’re here on behalf of my father?” 

“Indeed. That is why I come alone with a warning, and a gift.”

She held out her hand. Three white pearls flashed in her palm.

"I know you journey to Hades's realm," she said. "Few mortals have ever done this and survived: Orpheus, who had great music skill; Hercules, who had great strength; Houdini, who could escape even the depths of Tartarus. Do you have these talents?"

“No, but I’m pretty nasty with a sword,” was all he said. He had other talents, too, but it felt weird to brag about those in front of a water spirit, who could likely do a lot of the same things and stronger.

"Ah, but you have something else, Percy. You have gifts you have only begun to know. The oracles have foretold a great and terrible future for you, should you survive to manhood. Poseidon would not have you die before your time. Therefore take these, and when you are in need, smash a pearl at your feet."

“It will return me to the sea?”

“If that is what you need,” she confirmed. 

“And what about the warning?”

Her eyes flickered with green light. "Go with what your heart tells you, or you will lose all. Hades feeds on doubt and hopelessness. He will trick you if he can, make you mistrust your own judgment. Once you are in his realm, he will never willingly let you leave. Keep faith. Good luck, Percy Jackson." 

She summoned her sea horse and rode toward the void.

"Good-bye, young hero," she called back, her voice fading into the depths. "You must listen to your heart." She became a speck of glowing green, and then she was gone.

Percy sighed at the cryptic messages, knowing he would get no more from the spirit. The meanings were a little more clear with context, but he didn’t trust himself to remember all of the parts of the story that would give him that context. 

Letting himself float in near pitch-black water for a few more minutes, he let himself go limp, not really sinking so much as drifting now. Once he felt like he’d completely filled the bar of “amount of time appropriate to worry your friends,” he commanded the water to push him towards the surface and shore. 

When he stepped out of the surf, his clothes were completely dry, but he let his hair remain a little damp. It felt nice in the heat that, while not as bad as back in Denver, was still uncomfortable. 

He told his friends about his interaction with Nereid, and showed them the pearls. 

Annabeth grimaced. "No gift comes without a price."

“Yeah. I know.”

On that happy thought, they turned their backs on the sea, and with some spare change from Ares's backpack, the trio took the bus into West Hollywood. The bus driver didn’t recognize the address on the Underworld address slip Percy had taken from Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium, or heard of DOA recording studios. 

Percy sighed, knowing he’d never find the place from memory considering the way they’d found it the first time, so wandering aimlessly it was. At least they had several days to spare this time around. After a couple of miles of aimless searching, and ducking behind a few allies to hide from cops, they passed by a store with Tv’s playing in the windows. 

They were showing an interview with Smelly Gabe. He was in the middle of a poker game in their apartment, with some blond chick patting his hand as he spoke. 

A fake tear glistened on his cheek. He was saying, "Honest, Ms. Walters, if it wasn't for Sugar here, my grief counselor, I'd be a wreck. My stepson took everything I cared about. My wife ... my Camaro ... I—I'm sorry. I have trouble talking about it."

"There you have it, America." Barbara Walters turned to the camera. "A man torn apart. An adolescent boy with serious issues. Let me show you, again, the last known photo of this troubled young fugitive, taken just the other day in Denver."

The screen cut to a grainy shot of Him, Annabeth, and Grover standing outside the Colorado diner, talking to Ares.

"Who are the other children in this photo?" Barbara Walters asked dramatically. "Who is the man with them? Is Percy Jackson a delinquent, a terrorist, or perhaps the brainwashed victim of a frightening new cult? When we come back, we chat with a leading child psychologist. Stay tuned, America."

“C’mon,” Annabeth said, Grover putting a hand on his shoulder and leading Percy away from the screens as he almost snapped one of his charms in half.

As the sun set and night came fully, they walked past gangbangers, bums, and street hawkers, who looked at us like they were trying to figure if we were worth the trouble of mugging.

As we hurried passed the entrance of an alley, a voice from the darkness said, "Hey, you."

Percy slowed down, but didn’t exactly stop walking. He was curious, sure, but not quite ready to throw out the option of just running. 

Before he knew it, they were surrounded, and pretty much forced to stop. A gang of kids had circled us. Six of them in all - white kids with expensive clothes and mean faces. Like the kids at Yancy Academy: rich brats playing at being bad boys.

Leaving Riptide in his pocket, knowing it wouldn’t do any good, he readied his fist and hoped he wouldn’t be too off-balance for this. All of the real fighting he’d been involved in since his death was with a sword, which was fairly instinctual no matter what body he was in; but a hand-to-hand fight in such a small body? Percy wasn’t sure he’d be all that stunning in this one. 

Knowing he who struck first (usually) won, he charged and sent a decent uppercut into the leader’s jaw, before yelling at his friends to just book it. And they did, with Annabeth hitting another of the gang members in the throat for her own escape, and Grover ran surprisingly quickly for someone wearing fake feet. 

They ran for about a block and turned a corner before Annabeth shouted "There!" pointing at the only store on the block who looked open, its windows glaring with neon. The sign above the door said something like CRSTUY'S WATRE BDE ALPACE.

"Crusty's Water Bed Palace?" Grover translated.

Percy groaned, but shoved the doors open anyway and ucked inside with his friends. A creepy monster was easier to deal with than six pissed-off mortals, in his opinion. 

Standing before them was a guy who looked like a raptor in a leisure suit. He was at least seven feet tall, with absolutely no hair. He had gray, leathery skin, thick-lidded eyes, and a cold, reptilian smile. He moved toward the three of them slowly, but Percy knew he could move pretty fast if he needed to.

His suit might've come from the Lotus Casino. It belonged back in the seventies, big-time. The shirt was silk paisley, unbuttoned halfway down his hairless chest, and the lapels on his velvet jacket were as wide as landing strips. The silver chains around his neck were innumerable. 

"I'm Crusty," he said, with a tartar-yellow smile.

"Sorry to barge in," Percy spoke, trying to keep the utter disgust out of his tone. "We were just, uh, browsing."

"You mean hiding from those no-good kids," Crusty grumbled. "They hang around every night. I get a lot of people in here, thanks to them. Say, you want to look at a water bed?"

He was about to say  _ hell no, we’ll be going now, thanks,  _ when the guy put one of his huge paws on the hero’s shoulder and steered him further inside. 

There was every kind of water bed you could imagine: different kinds of wood, different patterns of sheets; queen-size, king-size, emperor-of-the-universe-size.

"This is my most popular model." Crusty spread his hands proudly over a bed covered with black satin sheets, with built-in Lava Lamps on the headboard. The mattress vibrated, so it looked like oil-flavored Jell-O.

"Million-hand massage," Crusty told us. "Go on, try it out. Shoot, take a nap. I don't care. No business today, any-way.”

Percy shifted uncomfortably, and started pulling at the leather string around his neck. It came undone, surprising him, and for some reasons making him feel like he might cry, so he just sat on the floor and went about collecting all the charms and re-doing the knot, tighter this time. 

While he was doing that, probably not even noticing what had happened right away, Grover cried "Million-hand massage!" and dove in. "Oh, you guys! This is cool."

"Hmm," Crusty said, stroking his leathery chin. "Almost, almost."

Percy struggled to remember which order the charms had been in originally. Was it Sun, lion, seashell, dragon, clover, moon, unicorn? Or was it lion, sun, seashell, clover, dragon, unicorn, moon? Why did it even matter which order they were in? It’s not like this necklace was important. It was some cheap thing he’d got from the campus store, a dumb thing some camper had half-assed during an activity that somehow got put on the arts&crafts shelf anyway.

Crusty looked at Annabeth. "Do me a favor and try this one over here, honey. Might fit."

Annabeth said, "But what-"

He patted her reassuringly on the shoulder and led her over to the Safari Deluxe model with leakwood lions carved into the frame and a leopard-patterned comforter. When Annabeth didn't want to lie down, he pushed her.

"Hey!" she protested.

Crusty snapped his fingers. " _ Ergo! _ "

Ropes sprang from the sides of the bed, lashing around Annabeth, holding her to the mattress.

Grover tried to get up, but ropes sprang from his black-satin bed, too, and lashed him down.

"N-not c-c-cool!" he yelled, his voice vibrating from the million-hand massage. "N-not c-cool a-at all!"

The giant looked at Annabeth, then turned toward me and grinned. "Almost, darn it."

When Percy ignored him, the giant seemed to just continue speaking to the two more attentive of the audience.

"Can't stand imperfect measurements," Crusty muttered. "Ergo!"

A new set of ropes leaped out from the top and bottom of the beds, wrapping around Grove and Annabeth's ankles, then around their armpits. The ropes started tightening, pulling his friends from both ends.

"Don't worry," Crusty spoke, far too kindly. "These are stretching jobs. Maybe three extra inches on your spines. You might even live. Now why don't we find a bed you like, huh?" The last part was directed back at the half-blood still sitting cross-legged on the floor with his mind focused elsewhere. 

"Percy!" Grover yelled.

Percy was distantly aware of all this happening, but he was still trying to figure out if the moon or unicorn went next; and when he finally did remember that, yes, the unicorn came next and the moon was last, his hands were shaking too much. His friends were calling for him to help, and he just couldn’t- what  _ was  _ this? It didn’t feel like a panic attack. He knew those, knew how to calm down enough to power through it until he had the time to properly break down. This was different. He wasn’t scared, or even angry, really. Just frustrated and sad. When he got the charms on, and was fumbling to re-tie the knot, one of Crusty’s huge hands landed on his neck and dragged him to his feet. 

He dropped the necklace in surprise, and that was it. The dam broke, and Percy shoved his hand in his front pocket to pull out Riptide. The man didn’t seem too worried, more distracted about trying to find the perfect bed to stretch Percy’s spine out in. Swinging his sword up, he slashed Crusty’s arm and jumped away when the giant screamed. 

“Sorry,” the son of Poesidon murmured. “I don’t think this is really about you, man, I just need to do this.” 

And that was all the warning his opponent got before Percy was rushing in, stabbing and slashing fervently. He’s not even sure he breathed the entire fight, as he ducked under swings and evaded bone-crushing grabs. There would be more than a few bruises on him when this was over, but he was fine with that. 

Vaguely, Percy was aware of his friends screaming and crying out in the pain of having their spines stretched and popped unnaturally, and that only pushed him to move faster. With a quick jap to the giant’s side to distract, he dived the opposite way to shove Riptide right through Procrustes’s ribs. 

The monster crumbled to dust, and Percy rushed to cut his friends free. As soon as the ropes were cut, though, his mind turned back to his necklace. Thankfully none of the charms had come off when he dropped it this time, so all that was left was to re-tie it. He suddenly felt like nothing in the world could take more energy, though, so he just stared at it blankly. It was only a few feet away from him and yet also a million miles beyond reach. 

Annabeth said something that sounded snarky, but he didn’t quite catch the words. Then his friends were both there, Grover looking at him worriedly and gently resting a hand on his unresponsive friend’s shoulder. Annabeth crouched down and retrieved the charm necklace, offering it to him silently. Percy’s hand clenched tighter around Riptide, still in his grip, and what had been a few stray tears earlier became a flood. 

He collapsed to the floor, letting his sword clatter beside him. This caused some panic to his companions, he saw, but Percy was just so  _ tired.  _ He was tired, and he missed his mom, and  _ gods,  _ he had _ died,  _ just a few months ago he had died, alone and frustrated on a public bus for trying to do the right thing and save people. What kind of hero did that make him? Surely a tragic one, in the eyes of mortals. But to the gods and others of their world? It was pathetic. 

Percy let himself cry until he was all out of tears, quietly hiccuping and clenching his fists hard enough to draw blood. He let himself have all of what was probably an hour at most to break down in the comfort of his friends, before standing up and recapping Riptide. After scrubbing his face dry with his hands and wiping his nose with a tissue Grover had conveniently found, he finally took his necklace back from Annabth and tied it around his neck; tighter, stronger this time, so he hopefully wouldn’t have to go through whatever  _ that  _ had been again. 

Looking at the bulletin board behind Crusty's sales desk, there was an advertisement for Hermes Delivery Service, and another for the All-New Compendium of L.A. Area Monsters - "The only Monstrous Yellow Pages you'll ever need!" Under that, a bright orange flier for DOA Recording Studios, offering commissions for heroes' souls. "We are always looking for new talent!" DOA's address was right underneath with a map.

His friends came to stand on either side of him, searching for what he was reading so intensely. Sharing a glance, the three of them nodded silently and left the waterbed store - DOA was only a block away. 


	14. Chapter 13: Time To See Uncle Death

They stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS. Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors, were the words: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.

It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece. 

He turned to his friends. "Okay. You remember the plan.” 

"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."

Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?”

"Don't think negative."

"Right," she said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."

Percy grimaced, knowing that, objectively, this plan was as dumb as it had been the first time around, but he had his puch of drachmas ready in his pocket, for when things got hairy. 

Annabeth put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."

She gave Grover a nudge.

"Oh, right!" he chimed in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."

He smiled at his friend’s efforts. "Let's whoop some Underworld butt."

They walked inside the DOA lobby.

Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel gray, pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands, the furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator. Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see them all just fine, but if he focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking transparent.

The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so the trio had to look up at him. He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-colored skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.

Percy pretended to read the guy’s name tag for the sake of appearances, and said “Mr. Charon.” 

Charon looked down at the three of them. “Hello, little dead ones. What can I do for you?”

“We want to go to the underworld,” Percy said, not demanding or rude - not with any particular inflection, really. 

Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."

"It is?" Annabeth asked.

"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'" He looked us over. "How did you die, then?"

Percy spoke up again, with something a little better than ‘collectively drowning in a large bathtub.’

“Food poisoning. Some bad fish, you see.” 

"I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children ... alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."

"Oh, but we have coins." Percy set three golden drachmas on the counter, from what was left of what Ares had given them. There was more in his pouch, the stash increased by what Crusty had had stashed behind his desk. 

"Well, now ..." Charon moistened his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in ..."

His fingers hovered greedily over the coins.

They were so close. 

Charon sniffed the air suspiciously. The man looked agitated and scoffed. 

“I knew it, you three don’t smell dead. You smell like godlings. No mortal children would die with real drachma on them.” 

Percy placed another three coins on the desk between them. 

“We  _ really  _ need to get to the Underworld, sir.”

Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat.

Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.

"Leave while you can," Charon told us. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."

He started to go for the coins, but Percy snatched them back.

"No service, no tip." 

Charon growled again - a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.

"It's a shame, too," he sighed. "We had more to offer."

Pulling the pouch from his jeans, Percy waved it in front of Charon, pulling out a handful and letting them fall through his fingers back into the bag. 

Charon's growl changed into something more like a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh ... just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?"

"A lot," he said. "I bet Hades doesn't pay you well enough for such hard work." 

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always 'Please don't let me be dead' or 'Please let me across for free.' I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"

"You deserve better," Percy agreed. "A little appreciation. Respect. Good pay."

With each word, he stacked another gold coin on the counter.

Charon glanced down at his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. "I must say, lad, you're making some sense now. Just a little."

Percy stacked another few coins. "I could mention a pay raise while I'm talking to Hades."

He sighed. "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you three and be off."

He stood, scooped up the money, and said, "Come along."

They pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at their clothes like the wind, voices whispering things he couldn't make out. Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling, "Freeloaders."

He escorted the three of them into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with them and pushed them back into the lobby.

"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," he announced to the waiting room. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"

He shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and we started to descend.

"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.

"Nothing," Charon said.

"For how long?"

"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."

"Oh," she said. "That's ... fair."

Charon raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."

"We'll get out alive," Percy spoke. 

"Ha."

There was a sudden dizzy feeling clawing at his gut. The spirit’s clothes changed as they moved - forward, rather than down - into hooded grey robes. 

The floor of the elevator began swaying.

Percy blinked hard. When he opened his eyes, Charon's creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone. Where his eyes should've been were empty sockets - like Ares's eyes, except Charon's were totally dark, full of night and death and despair instead of fire and destructive chaos.

He saw the half-blood looking, and said, "Well?"

"Nothing.”

Charon’s face slowly became more and more transparent, allowing a clear view at the man’s skull. 

The floor kept swaying.

Grover said, "I think I'm getting seasick.” 

“Trust me, nothing as pure as seawater is down here, man,” Percy replied idly. 

When he blinked again, the elevator wasn't an elevator anymore. They were standing in a wooden barge. Charon was poling them across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things - plastic dolls, crushed carnations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges.

"The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so..."

"Polluted," Charon said. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across - hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."

Mist curled off the filthy water. Above, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison.

Annabeth grabbed his hand, looking for reassurance. Percy would have taken a moment to grin and probably get all blushy like the lovestruck idiot he was - but the air of this place just made it hard to be happy about anything. 

The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yards to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as you could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones - the howl of a large animal.

"Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon said. His smile turned skeletal in the greenish light. "Bad luck for you, godlings."

The bottom of the boat slid onto the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along arm in arm. A boy no older than Percy technically was now, shuffling silently along in his gray robe.

Charon said, "I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise."

The heroes disembarked, following the spirits up a well-worn path. Glancing back for a second, Percy saw Charon counting out the drachmas in his hand with a greedy look in his eyes. 

The gates of Tartaru looked like a mix of airport security and the Jersey Turnpike. There were three separate entrances under one huge black archway that said YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Each entrance had a pass-through metal detector with security cameras mounted on top. Beyond this were tollbooths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon. Some of this was familiar, but considering he’d only ever come into the place this way once it still felt odd. 

The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now, but he couldn’t see Cerberus anywhere. 

The dead queued up in the three lines, two marked ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked EZ DEATH. The EZ DEATH line was moving right along. The other two were crawling.

"What do you figure?" he asked Annabeth.

"The fast line must go straight to the Asphodel Fields," she said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgment from the court, because it might go against them."

“So we should go that way,” Percy said easily. “Fastest way to get where we’re going, and if we get judged it’d just draw attention to the fact we’re not really dead.” 

A couple of black-robbed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk. The face of the dead man looked vaguely familiar.

He shrugged, as they got closer to the gates. The howling was so loud now it shook the ground at my feet, but he still couldn’t see Cerberus anywhere. Then, about fifty feet in front of them, the green mist shimmered. Standing just where the path split into three lanes was the enormous shadowy monster.

The purebred rottweiler, easily the size of a woolly mammoth with three heads, was guarding the gates like a good boy as always. The ATTENDANT ON DUTY lines parted on either side of him. The EZ DEATH spirits walked right between his front paws and under his belly, which they could do without even crouching.

"He’s becoming more visible… I think-" Annabeth moistened her lips. "I'm afraid it's because we're getting closer to being dead."

The dog's middle head craned toward them, sniffing the air and growling.

"It can smell the living," Percy said.

"But that's okay," Grover spoke, feigning at least the tiniest shred of confidence. "Because we have a plan."

"Right," Annabeth said, voice small. "A plan."

The trio moved toward the monster.

The middle head snarled at them, then barked so loud Percy felt his eyeballs rattle. 

Percy smiled gently at Cerberus - tried to remember that one time he’d seen Nico playing with the large dog within Hades’s palace; even huge mythical dogs that guard the gates of the Underworld need a break every now and then. But even as an adult he’d still been kinda terrified by the beast, mostly because it could bit him in half like a milk bone with no problem, and no one had ever explicitly said it wouldn’t. 

He motioned for Annabeth to get out the larger rubber ball - part of the collection of things she’d swiped from Waterland. She stepped forward as she pulled it out, waving in front of the dog’s face. All three heads swiveled towards it instantly. 

She shouted, "See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!"

All three of his heads cocked sideways. Six nostrils dilated.

"Sit!" Annabeth called again.

Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits who'd been passing underneath him in the EZ DEATH line. The spirits made muffled hisses as they dissipated, like the air let out of tires.

Annabeth said, "Good boy!"

She threw Cerberus the ball.

He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snapping at the middle, trying to get the new toy.

"Drop it.'" Annabeth ordered.

Cerberus's heads stopped fighting and looked at her. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like a tiny piece of gum. He made a loud, scary whimper, then dropped the ball, now slimy and bitten nearly in half, at Annabeth's feet.

"Good boy." She picked up the ball, ignoring the monster spit all over it.

Grover and Percy started making their way forwards, and Cerbus stood up, growling. 

"Stay!" Annabeth ordered the monster. "If you want the ball, stay!"

Cerberus whimpered, but he stayed where he was.

Annabeth said, "Good dog!"

Once her friends were through, she threw the ball up to Cerberus, and while the three heads were distracted fighting over the toy, ran under the dog and to the EZ DEATH line as well. 

Part of Percy was shocked it had worked so well, even having seen it happen pretty much exactly the same way fifteen years ago. Well, all he actually remembered was a red rubber ball and lots of monster drool. He’d volunteered to do the job himself, knowing how terrifying it’d be, but Annabeth had grumbled something about ‘seaweed brains doing  _ her  _ job’ and insisted she would take care of it. Fate sure had a weird way of trying to keep him on-script. 

Just as they’d stepped into EZ DEATH, he glanced back and saw Cerberus fully turned around, facing them. The ball had popped, hanging off one tooth of the left head’s mouth. Cerberus whimpered, and was likely waiting for a replacement. 

"Good boy," Annabeth said, but her voice sounded melancholy and uncertain.

The monster's heads turned sideways, as if worried about her.

"I'll bring you another ball soon," Annabeth promised faintly. "Would you like that?"

Cerberus whined, obviously still expecting a new ball.

"Good dog. I'll come visit you soon. I—I promise." Annabeth turned to us. "Let's go."

Percy and Grover pushed through the metal detector, which immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"

Cerberus started to bark.

They burst through the EZ DEATH gate, which started even more alarms blaring, and raced into the Underworld.

A few minutes later, the three were hiding, out of breath, in the rotten trunk of an immense black tree as security ghouls scuttled past, yelling for backup from the Furies.

“Well guys,” the satyr murmured. “What have we learned today?”

“Always bring a backup ball?” Percy said, a little sarcastically. 

“No!” he stage-whispered. “Never, ever come to the Underworld!”

_ Oh,  _ Percy thought. It wasn’t bad thinking, but he knew that he’d have to break that general rule at least a few more times in his life. And really, it wasn’t such a bad place when you were being escorted by one of the children of Hades. Not that either of his friends would know that. 

He pretended not to notice Annabeth wiping tears from her eyes at Cerberus’s mournful howling in the distance. Even monsters need a little attention once in a while. 

The Fields of Asphodel were as miserable a place as ever. An innumerable amount of souls, wandering aimlessly over black grass already long trampled over by eons of other souls. Poplars grew intermittently, the black, almost burnt-looking trees not doing the landscape any favors. The cavern’s ceiling was so high above, it could’ve been mistaken for an incredibly overcast sky, save for the stalactites hanging menacingly above. Percy imagined they wouldn’t actually fall on anyone unless disturbed by an actual earthquake, and tried not to worry about it too much. 

Absentmindedly, he fiddled with his charms as they passed through the field, trying to bend in and ignore the mindless chattering of the souls around them. Most of the dead just looked sad and turned away after realizing the campers couldn't hear them - some tried harder, but still moved on eventually. They kept moving towards toward a black-tented pavilion with a banner that read:

JUDGMENTS FOR ELYSIUM AND ETERNAL DAMNATION

Welcome, Newly Deceased!

Out the back of the tent came two much smaller lines.

To the left, spirits flanked by security ghouls were marched down a rocky path toward the Fields of Punishment, which glowed and smoked in the distance, a vast, cracked wasteland with rivers of lava and minefields and miles of barbed wire separating the different torture areas. Even from far away, he could still see people being chased by hellhounds, burned at the stake, forced to run naked through cactus patches or listen to opera music. He could just make out a tiny hill, with the ant-size figure of Sisyphus struggling to move his boulder to the top. There were worse tortures, too, but Percy didn’t want to think about them too much, so he turned away. 

On the right were the much more peaceful, happy fields of Elysium. The smell of barbeque and the sounds of laughter and music came from there, beautiful houses and silver-golden flowers dotted the landscape. It was the place he’d been hoping to wake up in, all those weeks ago after being shot. Not that dying on a city bus with no idea if he’d actually saved anyone in the end was a particularly heroic death, but he’d done enough good in his life to make up for that, surely?

He knows he still wants to go there, in the end, but he’s not going to rush for it. Percy Jackson has plenty of life left to live, thanks. 

"That's what it's all about," Annabeth said, gently. "That's the place for heroes."

The fact that there were so few occupants in Elysium compared to the Field of Punishments or Asphodel was depressing, once he started thinking too hard about it, and soon he had to turn away from the sight as well. Instead, he focused on the tent they were heading towards. 

The three of them left the judgment pavilion and moved deeper into the Asphodel Fields. It got darker. The colors faded from their clothes. The crowds of chattering spirits began to thin.

After a few miles of walking, they began to hear a familiar screech in the distance. Looming on the horizon was a palace of glittering black obsidian. Above the parapets swirled three dark batlike creatures: the Furies. Percy knew who they were waiting for.

"I suppose it's too late to turn back," Grover said wistfully.

"We'll be okay." Percy tried to reassure his friend. 

"Maybe we should search some of the other places first," Grover suggested. "Like, Elysium, for instance ..."

"Come on, goat boy." Annabeth grabbed his arm.

Percy jumped when he felt his backpack move on it’s own. At first it was just one tug, and then it became more forceful.  _ Gods dammit, the shoes,  _ he thought. Well, this sucks. 

“Percy?” Annabeth called. “What’s going on?” 

“I think the flying shoes activated! They’re- trying to drag me somewhere-” he’d already slipped the bag off his shoulders, and was holding it by the straps as it pulled him forward. 

“Just - open the bag and let them out, dude!” Grover called.

Before he could even try to attempt that, the bag gave a sudden sharp pull, surprising him as it flew out of his hands entirely. 

“Well…” Percy said. “At least the pearls weren’t in there?” He dug the things out of his pocket. His spare clothes and ambrosia were down the gutter, though. They collectively decided to just move on, the quest was getting tiring enough already. 

The Furies circled the parapets, high in the gloom. The outer walls of the fortress glittered black, and the two-story-tall bronze gates stood wide open.

Up close, he saw that the engravings on the gates were scenes of death. Some were from modern times - an atomic bomb exploding over a city, a trench filled with gas mask-wearing soldiers, a line of African famine victims waiting with empty bowls - but all of them looked as if they'd been etched into the bronze thousands of years ago. Percy knew some of these were prophecies, at least, but he wondered if maybe Hades had just gotten that good at coming up with whatever horrible thing humans would do next. 

Inside the courtyard was the garden of Persephone. Multi Colored mushrooms, poisonous shrubs, and weird luminous plants all grew without sunlight. Precious jewels made up for the lack of flowers, piles of rubies as big as his fist, clumps of raw diamonds. Standing here and there like frozen party guests were Medusa's garden statues - petrified children, satyrs, and centaurs - all smiling grotesquely.

In the center of the garden was an orchard of pomegranate trees, their orange blooms neon bright in the dark. "The garden of Persephone," Annabeth said. "Keep walking."

Percy understood why she wanted to move on. The tart smell of those pomegranates was almost overwhelming. He ignored the urge to eat one - just one bite of Underworld food, and they would never be able to leave. He pulled Grover away to keep him from picking a big juicy one.

They walked up the steps of the palace, between black columns, through a black marble portico, and into the house of Hades. The entry hall had a polished bronze floor, which seemed to boil in the reflected torchlight. There was no ceiling, just the cavern roof, far above. Not like they ever had to worry about rain, down here.

Every side doorway was guarded by a skeleton in military gear. Some wore Greek armor, some British redcoat uniforms, some camouflage with tattered American flags on the shoulders. They carried spears or muskets or M-16s. None of them bothered the trio, but their hollow eye sockets followed them as they walked down the hall, toward the big set of doors at the opposite end.

Two U.S. Marine skeletons guarded the doors. They grinned down at the heroes, rocket-propelled grenade launchers held across their chests.

"You know," Grover mumbled, "I bet Hades doesn't have trouble with door-to-door salesmen."

Annabeth shifted uncomfortably, frowning. “Did one of you put something in my bag? It weighs a lot more than it did a minute ago.” 

“Here, pass it to me,” Percy offered. He knew what was inside, and wanted to keep her from looking just yet. 

“I don’t need you to-”

“It’s been a long day, wise girl. Let me do this, consider it repayment for crying all over you guys earlier.” 

She nodded reluctantly. After the bag had changed hands, (and wow, yeah, the Master Bolt was no light thing) a hot wind blew down the corridor, and the doors swung open. The guards stepped aside.

"I guess that means _ entrez-vous, _ " Annabeth said.

The room inside looked just like in his dream, except this time the throne of Hades was occupied.

He was at least ten feet tall, and dressed in black silk robes and a crown of braided gold. His skin was albino white, his hair shoulder-length and jet black. He wasn't bulked up like Ares, but he radiated power. He lounged on his throne of fused human bones, looking lithe, graceful, and dangerous as a panther. 

Hades had the intense, evilly charismatic eyes of a dictator. 

"You are brave to come here, Son of Poseidon," he said in an oily voice. "After what you have done to me, very brave indeed. Or perhaps you are simply very foolish."

“Lord and Uncle,” Percy spoke, with equal amounts of respect and stubbornness. “I have come to deliver the truth, as well as ask a favor.” 

Hades raised an eyebrow. When he sat forward in his throne, shadowy faces appeared in the folds of his black robes, faces of torment, as if the garment were stitched of trapped souls from the Fields of Punishment, trying to get out.

"Only one request?" Hades said. "Arrogant child. As if you have not already taken enough. Speak, then. It amuses me not to strike you dead yet."

“First, the truth. I did not steal the Master Bolt from Mount Olympus, and neither did you. There is a third party none of yet considered to be at fault, mainly because of just how ridiculous it sounds.”

Hades, for the briefest instant, looks surprised - a spark of shock in those dark and dangerous eyes, But it was just as quickly gone, the god’s composure returned. 

“And who would this third party be, exactly?” 

“The Wicked One. The King of the Titans.” He took a breath, desperate to feel his charms between his fingers but knowing it would be rude to seem distracted. “Kronos is compelling weak minds from his place in Tartarus, trying to regain power. He has convinced a few to do his bidding already - to steal the Master Bolt, as well as the Helm of Darkness.” 

"I have said nothing of the helm's disappearance," Hades spoke in a dangerously light tone. "because I had no illusions that anyone on Olympus would offer me the slightest justice, the slightest help. I can ill afford for word to get out that my most powerful weapon of fear is missing. So how is it you came across this information, if you yourself did not steal it from me?”

“You should know that a demigod’s dreams often offer information they would otherwise not be privy to, Uncle. And besides that, it was the only sensible reason for you to send all three of the Kindly Ones after us, since it was painfully obvious you wouldn’t steal the bolt. War is the last thing you need around here, after all, isn’t it?”

Grover spoke up unsurely. “But a war would expand his kingdom, wouldn’t it?”

"A typical thing for my brothers to say! Do you think I need more subjects? Did you not see the sprawl of the Asphodel Fields?"

"Well..."

"Have you any idea how much my kingdom has swollen in this past century alone, how many subdivisions I've had to open?"

Before aPercy could step in to do damage control, Hade continued - he was on a roll now.

"More security ghouls," he moaned. "Traffic problems at the judgment pavilion. Double overtime for the staff. I used to be a rich god, satyr. I control all the precious metals under the earth. But my expenses!"

_ Charon wants a pay raise,  _ Percy almost wanted to say. But he knew his uncle was probably well aware already. 

When he finally saw an opening, Percy jumped back into the conversation. 

“Lord and Uncle Hades, I apologize for the insult on behalf of my friend. If I may deliver my request, now?”

The god frowned and waved a hand for him to continue, so he did: 

“We have already retrieved the Master Bolt,” his friends gasped behind him, and looked at him in confusion. “If you would return my mother to me in exchange, and allow us to leave your palace peacefully, we would gladly seek out and return your Helm to you. Are these terms acceptable?”

The god was silent for a time. His friends looked like they were going to burst with all of their questions, but he knew Annabeth at least would put some of it together soon. He could already see that ‘I’m thinking at the speed of light don’t you dare interrupt me’ look in her eyes. 

Finally, Hades spoke again. “If you truly are not responsible for the theft of my Symbol of Power as you say, and you can retrieve and return it to me before the Summer Solstice, I suppose I could return one living mortal to you,” he paused, suddenly holding an unbearably hot flame flickering in his hands. Within it was the face of Sally Jackson. “But if you are correct in saying that this is all Kronos’s doing, I doubt there is anything a group of two child half-bloods and a satyr can do to take anything from him, so I will not get my hopes up. You are dismissed - leave this place before I send my Furies to personally escort you.” 

They took the hint and fled the palace, finally stopping in a small alcove outside the Fields of Asphodel to take a breath. His friends were on him immediately. 

“Seaweed brain, what did you mean ‘we’ve already retrieved the Master Bolt’? That is not something you can bluff about in the presence of a god, so how did you-”

Percy spilled Annabeth’s Waterland backpack off his shoulders, and opened it slowly. The Master Bolt, in all of it’s blinding glory, sat within - shrunk down to fit. 

“Wh- but I never- how did it get in my bag? Wait, earlier, when is suddenly became heavier-” 

He nodded. “Someone put it there; I’d wager the same one who stole it in the first place. But not right now - I’ll explain everything, but we should get out of here first, before my uncle follows through with that threat.” 

Grover and Annabeth nodded, and he dug the pearls out of his pocket, handing them one each. They smashed the pearls on the ground, the fragments exploding with a burst of green light and a gust of fresh sea wind. The next moment, they were surrounded each by a milky sphere, which began to float off the ground. 

Soon they hit the ceiling, phasing straight through the stalactites above, and continuing to ascend in darkness. They rushed up through the ground, coming up through the very bottom of the ocean, and exploded on the surface, in the middle of the Santa Monica Bay, knocking a surfer off his board with an indignant, "Dude!"

Percy grabbed Grover and hauled him over to a life buoy. He caught Annabeth and dragged her over too. A curious shark was circling them, a great white about eleven feet long. The surfer screamed something about bad mushrooms and paddled away from them as fast as he could.

Calling the shark closer, Percy wrapped one arm around the buoy and one arm around the creature’s dorsal fin. Telling his friends to hold on tightly, he asked their finned friend to pull them towards the shore. 

The great white did so gracefully, and they were quickly sitting on the beach together - he let the water soak him and leave him wet to draw a few less eyes. He also passed his own shoes to Grover and tied them tightly around his friend’s hooves with Annabeth’s help, as the satyr had lost his in the water. Great whites weren’t exactly known for being slow.

Without thinking about it, he already knew what day it was. It was June 20th, the day before the Solstice - the sun was just barely rising on the horizon. Well, time to go fight Ares and book it to Manhattan, he thought exhaustedly. 

  
  
  



	15. Chapter 14: Fights to the Death Don't Have to be Lethal

They all took a moment to sit down and talk strategy - or well, for Percy to explain (most of) what he’d been hiding from them. 

"The prophecy was right," he started with. "You shall go west and face the god who has turned.' But it wasn't Hades. Hades doesn't want war among the Big Three. Someone else pulled off the theft. Someone stole Zeus's master bolt, and Hades's helm, and framed me because I'm Poseidon's kid. Poseidon would be blamed by both sides, and by sundown-tomorrow there’d be an all-out war amongst the gods. 

Grover shook his head, mystified. "But who would be that sneaky? Who would want war that bad?"

"Gee, let me think,” he replied sarcastically. “Who would enjoy an ultimate, world-ending war more than anyone else? And who would have the power to steal two Symbols of Power?”

“You mean it’s-?” Annabeth asked. 

Percy sent a pointed glance down the beach - it’d been mostly cleared out with the awful weather, but it wasn’t completely empty. For one, there was the trio of heroes. And then there was the god of war, in his black leather duster and his sunglasses, an aluminum baseball bat propped on his shoulder. His motorcycle rumbled beside him, its headlight turning the sand red.

"Hey, kid," Ares said, seeming genuinely pleased to see Percy there. "You were supposed to die."

“And  _ you’re  _ not supposed to have another god’s symbol of power. Guess none of us are doing what we’re supposed to.” 

“Oh, I beg to differ. You’re running around doing errands for the gods like the good little heroes you are, and I,” Ares smirked. “Well, I’m setting up the biggest war in history. If that’s not my destiny, kid, I don’t know what is.”

From his pocket he took out a ski cap—the kind bank robbers wear—and placed it between the handlebars of his bike. Immediately, the cap transformed into an elaborate bronze war helmet.

Percy frowned, pulling Riptide from his pocket but leaving it in pen form, for now. 

“Give us the Helm, Ares. There’s still time for you not to get your ass kicked. Besides, I know none of this was your idea, anyways. Someone else sent a hero to steal the two items, then, when Zeus sent you to hunt him down, you caught the thief. But you didn't turn him over to Zeus, something convinced you to let him go. You kept the items until another hero could come along and complete the delivery. A certain Titan has been ordering you around.”

"I am the god of war! I take orders from no one! I don't have dreams!"

"Who said anything about dreams?" Percy grinned wickedly. 

Ares looked agitated, but he tried to cover it with a smirk.

"Let's get back to the problem at hand, kid. You're alive. I can't have you taking that bolt to Olympus. You just might get those hardheaded idiots to listen to you. So I've got to kill you. Nothing personal."

He snapped his fingers. The sand exploded at his feet and out charged a wild boar, even larger and uglier than the one whose head hung above the door of cabin seven at Camp Half- Blood. The beast pawed the sand, glaring at them with beady eyes as it lowered its razor-sharp tusks and waited for the command to kill.

Percy stepped forward. "Fight me yourself, Ares."

He laughed, but the half-blood heard an edge to his laughter… an uneasiness. "You've only got one talent, kid, relying on dear old dad to help you. You would’ve died a thousand times over without the sea to back you up. You don't have what it takes."

"Scared?"

"In your adolescent dreams." But his sunglasses were starting to melt from the heat of his eyes. "No direct involvement. Sorry, kid. You're not at my level."

The giant boar charged.

Not that he had anything to prove the the moronic god, but Percy resolved to beat the stupid boar without reaching for the ocean just feet away from him anyways, and uncapped Riptide. As soon as the thing was close enough, he sliced one of its horns off, disorienting the creature. Then, while it was dazed, he sliced cleanly through the thing’s thick, ugly neck.

He turned back to Ares. "Are you going to fight me now?" Percy asked. "Or are you going to hide behind another pet?"

Ares's face was purple with rage. "Watch it, kid. I could turn you into—"

"A cockroach," the demigod said blankly. "Or a tapeworm. Yeah, I'm sure. That'd save you from getting your godly hide whipped, wouldn't it?"

Flames danced along the top of his glasses. "Oh, man, you are really asking to be smashed into a grease spot."

"If I lose, turn me into anything you want. Take the bolt. If I win, the helm and the bolt are mine and you have to  _ go. Away _ ."

Ares sneered.

He swung the baseball bat off his shoulder. "How would you like to get smashed: classic or modern?"

Percy shrugged, and waved Riptide a little in one hand, as if to say  _ uh, doi. _

"That's cool, dead boy," he said. "Classic it is." The baseball bat changed into a huge, two-handed sword. The hilt was a large silver skull with a ruby in its mouth.

"Percy," Annabeth said. "Don't do this. He's a god."

"He's a coward.”

She swallowed. "Wear this, at least. For luck."

She took off her necklace, with her five years' worth of camp beads and the ring from her father, and tied it around his neck - right on top of his own, beads interlacing with plastic charms. 

"Reconciliation," she said. "Athena and Poseidon together."

"Thanks,” he smiled.

"And take this," Grover said. He handed the son of Poesidon a flattened tin can that he'd probably been saving in his pocket for a thousand miles. "The satyrs stand behind you."

“I appreciate it, g-man.” 

"You all done saying good-bye?" Ares came forward, his black leather duster trailing behind him, his sword glinting like fire in the sunrise. "I've been fighting for eternity, kid. My strength is unlimited and I cannot die. What have you got?"

_ A head on my shoulders?  _ He thought, but said nothing. 

The god cleaved downward in an over-head strike, but Percy wasn’t there for it to connect with. Darting to the side, he willed the tide to come forward a few more feet to meet him on the sand. As Ares came in for another wide strike, the water pushed him high into the air, and Percy brought Riptide down to connect with Ares’s sword - which was now being held up to block with. 

Getting knocked back - further into the water, funnily enough - and let the waves come even further onto the beach. The waves were surging forward anxiously for easily a mile, Percy could feel it. 

His opponent grinned. "Not bad, not bad."

_ Get in closer,  _ Percy repeated to himself.  _ When you have the shorter blade, you gotta get in close.  _

They went on like that for a few minutes, Ares always using large, powerful strikes, where Percy worked more for speed and agility. But they were interrupted for a moment when Ananbetrh yelled “Peryc! Cops!”

His attention was directed towards the land further up the beach for a second. Indeed, there were two cop cars parked nearby. 

"There, officer!" somebody yelled. "See?"

A gruff cop voice: "Looks like that kid on TV ... what the heck ..."

"That guy's armed," another cop said. "Call for backup."

Ares nearly sliced him in half at the waist, but he recovered from the distraction quickly enough to only get  _ almost  _ disemboweled. As it was, he got a decent gash across his stomach, but nothing fatal - at least not immediately. He jumped back into the water from where he’d been forced to go inland earlier, and felt the wound closing up. 

Once more, their battle resumed, and Percy managed to nick Ares on the chin - deep enough enough for a few rivulets of golden ichor to run down the god’s neck. There were more sirens in the background. 

Ares turned to glare at our spectators, which gave me a moment to breathe. There were five police cars now, and a line of officers crouching behind them, pistols trained on us.

“Freeze! Put the guns down!” Guns? Thank you so much Mist, for making this situation like a million times worse than it was. At least as far as mortals would be concerned. 

"This is a private matter!" Ares bellowed. "Be gone.'"

He swept his hand, and a wall of red flame rolled across the patrol cars. The police barely had time to dive for cover before their vehicles exploded. The crowd behind them scattered, screaming.

Ares roared with laughter. "Now, little hero. Let's add you to the barbecue."

The god slashed at Percy’s neck, which he deflected along Riptide’s blade. He stepped further into the water, and Ares followed without a second thought. The demigod let himself be pushed further and further back until the water was at his navel, the waves barely hitting Ares’s thighs. 

Holding back the tide until the water was almost completely still around them, Percy let the pressure build and build until it was too much to handle, as he continued to dodge and deflect Ares’s sword. Then, with a single breath out, he released the huge wave - one that easily went five or six feet over the war god’s head - and used it to push himself forward and land a blow to Ares’s side, ducking under the arm holding the ginormous blade. 

It was a cheap elbow to the side, but it was something. And Percy felt a grin creep onto his face at the sight of Ares sputtering and tearing thick coils of seaweed off himself. 

As Percy righted himself behind Ares, he decided to go for a classic move, and shoved Anaklusmos right through the god’s left heel. The roar that followed blasted the very sea back from them, leaving a wet circle of sand fifty feet wide. More ichor, the golden blood of the gods, flowed from a gash in the war god's boot. The expression on his face was beyond hatred. It was pain, shock, complete disbelief that Percy had gotten this far in a fight with him. 

The god of war stalked towards him, muttering a plethora of Greek curses. 

Something stopped him.

It was as if a cloud covered the sun, but worse. Light faded. Sound and color drained away. A cold, heavy presence passed over the beach, slowing time, dropping the temperature to freezing, and making Percy feel like life was hopeless, fighting was useless. At least he was aware in the back of his mind that these feelings were artificial, and not a relapse into some of his darker days.

The darkness lifted.

Ares looked stunned.

Police cars were burning behind them. The crowd of spectators had fled. Annabeth and Grover stood on the beach, in shock, watching the water flood back around Ares's feet, his glowing golden ichor dissipating in the tide.

Ares lowered his sword.

"You have made an enemy, godling," he said lowly. "You have sealed your fate. Every time you raise your blade in battle, every time you hope for success, you will feel my curse. Beware, Perseus Jackson. Beware."

His body began to glow.

'''Percy!" Annabeth shouted. "Don't watch!"

_ Duh.  _ He turned away. Looking at a god’s true form is a one-way ticket to oblivion town that he is not ready to take, thank you very much, he would like to refund his ticket, please. 

The light faded. Looking back, Ares was gone, nothing left but Hades’s Helm in the sand. He retrieved it, and looked to his friends. But before he could make his way towards them, the Furies descended upon him. 

The middle Fury, the one who had been Mrs. Dodds, stepped forward. Her fangs were bared, but for once she didn't look threatening. She looked more disappointed, as if she'd been planning to have him for supper, but had decided he might give her indigestion.

"We saw the whole thing," she hissed. "So ... it truly was not you?"

Percy tossed her the Helm, which she caught in surprise. 

“Return that to Lord Hades, would you? Tell him I expect him to hold up his end of the deal, even if we aren’t dropping it off at his doorstep like UPS.”

She hesitated, then ran a forked tongue over her green, leathery lips. "Live well, Percy Jackson. Become a true hero. Because if you do not, if you ever come into my clutches again ..."

She cackled, savoring the idea. Then she and her sisters rose on their bats' wings, fluttered into the smoke-filled sky, and disappeared.

He joined Grover and Annabeth, who were staring at him in amazement.

"Percy ..." Grover said. "That was so incredibly ..."

"Terrifying," said Annabeth.

"Cool!" Grover corrected.

He didn’t really feel like either of those things - mostly tired and nostalgic. Gently, he returned the tin can and necklace to his friends. 

“Thanks for standing behind me guys, even after… everything.”

“Of course, seaweed brain. We’re friends, remember?” 

“Yeah, dude! We’ll always be there for you.” 

Percy grinned. 

“Right. Now we just have to get to Manhattan and bring the bolt to Zeus in... a little over twenty-four hours.”

“The only way to do that would be…” Annabeth trailed off. 

“Yeah. Flying.” Percy said with a self-deprecating smile.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	16. Chapter 15: Almost at an End

According to the L.A. news, the explosion at the Santa Monica beach had been caused when a crazy kidnapper fired a shotgun at a police car. He accidentally hit a gas main that had ruptured during the earthquake.

This crazy kidnapper (a.k.a. Ares) was the same man who had abducted Percy Jackson and two other adolescents in New York and brought us across the country on a ten-day odyssey of terror.

Poor little Percy Jackson wasn't an international criminal after all. He'd caused a commotion on that Greyhound bus in New Jersey trying to get away from his captor (and afterward, witnesses would even swear they had seen the leather-clad man on the bus—"Why didn't I remember him before?"). The crazy man had caused the explosion in the St. Louis Arch. After all, no kid could've done that. A concerned waitress in Denver had seen the man threatening his abductees outside her diner, gotten a friend to take a photo, and notified the police. Finally, brave Percy Jackson (he was beginning to like this kid) had stolen a gun from his captor in Los Angeles and battled him shotgun-to-rifle on the beach. Police had arrived just in time. But in the spectacular explosion, five police cars had been destroyed and the captor had fled. No fatalities had occurred. Percy Jackson and his two friends were safely in police custody.

The reporters fed them this whole story, and they just nodded and acted tearful and exhausted (which wasn't hard), and played victimized kids for the cameras.

"All I want," he said, choking back my tears, "is to see my loving stepfather again. Every time I saw him on TV, calling me a delinquent punk, I knew... somehow... we would be okay. And I know he'll want to reward each and every person in this beautiful city of Los Angeles with a free major appliance from his store. Here's the phone number." The police and reporters were so moved that they passed around the hat and raised money for three tickets on the next plane to New York.

Takeoff was a nightmare. Every spot of turbulence was scarier than a Greek monster. Percy didn’t let go of his necklace until they touched down safely at La Guardia. The local press was waiting for them outside security, but tey managed to evade them thanks to Annabeth, who lured them away in her invisible Yankees cap, shouting, "They're over by the frozen yogurt! Come on!" then rejoined Percy and Grover at baggage claim.

The three split up at the taxi stand. He told Annabeth and Grover to get back to Half-Blood Hill and let Chiron know what had happened. They protested, and it was hard to let them go after all they’d gone through, but he knew he had to do this last part of the quest by himself. 

Percy hopped in a taxi and headed into Manhattan. Thirty minutes later, he walked into the lobby of the Empire State Building.

The son of Poesidon was well aware of how awful he looked, tattered clothes and heavy bags under his eyes, but he didn’t give a damn. He marched up to the office clerk and said:

“I’m here on a quest for Zeus and Poesidon. Six hundredth floor, please.” 

"No appointment, no audience, kiddo. Lord Zeus doesn't see anyone unannounced."

"Oh, I think he'll make an exception." Percy opened his bag for the clerk to show off what was inside. 

The guard looked inside at the metal cylinder, not getting what it was for a few seconds. Then his face went pale. "That isn't..."

"Yes, it is. Want me to take it out and show you?"

"No! No!" He scrambled out of his seat, fumbled around his desk for a key card, then handed it to Percy. "Insert this in the security slot. Make sure nobody else is in the elevator with you."

With that, Percy left for the elevator, and, making sure he was alone, inserted the key card into the slot. It disappeared, and the button for the six hundredth floor appeared. He pressed it and waited. 

Muzak played. "Raindrops keep falling on my head...."

Finally,  _ ding _ . The doors slid open.

He absolutely  _ despised  _ the narrow stone walkway to the marble steps of Olympus, but carefully walked along it anyway. The gods probably figured anyone who was capable of making  _ into  _ Olympus would never be killed by a fall thousands of miles into the air. Or at least would be able to catch themself. Or just wouldn’t fall in the first place. 

From the top of the clouds rose the decapitated peak of a mountain, its summit covered with snow. Clinging to the mountainside were dozens of multileveled palaces—a city of mansion - all with white-columned porticos, gilded terraces, and bronze braziers glowing with a thousand fires. Roads wound crazily up to the peak, where the largest palace gleamed against the snow. Precariously perched gardens bloomed with olive trees and rosebushes. He could make out an open- air market filled with colorful tents, a stone amphitheater built on one side of the mountain, a hippodrome and a coliseum on the other. It was an Ancient Greek city, except it wasn't in ruins. It was new, and clean, and colorful, the way Athens must've looked twenty-five hundred years ago.

Shaking his head, knowing the place was beautiful but not what he came to see, and continued forward. 

Steps led up to a central courtyard. Past that, the throne room. Of course, calling the place a  _ room  _ was like calling Grand Central Station a broom closet. It was massive, absolutely huge - afterall, the place had been built to be able to house the gods in their true forms, and then more to make it feel grand even to a giant. 

Twelve thrones, built for beings the size of Hades, were arranged in an inverted U, just like the cabins at Camp Half-Blood. An enormous fire crackled in the central hearth pit. The thrones were empty except for two at the end: the head throne on the right, and the one to its immediate left. 

The gods were in giant human form, as Hades had been, but he could barely look at them without feeling a tingle, as if his body were starting to burn. Zeus, the Lord of the Gods, wore a dark blue pinstriped suit. He sat on a simple throne of solid platinum. He had a well-trimmed beard, marbled gray and black like a storm cloud. His face was proud and handsome and grim, his eyes rainy gray.

The god sitting next to him was his brother, without a doubt, but he was dressed very differently. He wore leather sandals, khaki Bermuda shorts, and a Tommy Bahama shirt with coconuts and parrots all over it. His skin was deeply tanned, his hands scarred like an old-time fisherman's. His hair was black, like mine. His face had that same brooding look that had always gotten the young half-blood branded a rebel. But his eyes, sea-green like Percy’s, were surrounded by sun-crinkles that told one he smiled a lot, too. 

His throne was a deep-sea fisherman's chair. It was the simple swiveling kind, with a black leather seat and a built-in holster for a fishing pole. Instead of a pole, the holster held a bronze trident, flickering with green light around the tips.

As Percy drew closer, the air crackled with ozone, and he knew that was when he’d gotten far enough. He kneeled, bowing his head low to the floor, no matter how much he hated the position. 

“Father. Lord and Uncle Zeus.”

To his left, Zeus spoke. "Should you not address the master of this house first, boy?"

Percy kept his head down, and waited.

"Peace, brother," Poseidon finally said. His voice stirred some of Percy’s oldest memories: that warm glow he remembered as a baby, the sensation of this god's hand on his forehead, "The boy defers to his father. This is only right."

"You still claim him then?" Zeus asked, menacingly. "You claim this child whom you sired against our sacred oath?"

"I have admitted my wrongdoing," Poseidon said. "Now I would hear him speak."

"I have spared him once already," Zeus grumbled. "Daring to fly through my domain ... pah! I should have blasted him out of the sky for his impudence."

"And risk destroying your own master bolt?" Poseidon asked calmly. "Let us hear him out, brother."

Zeus grumbled some more. "I shall listen," he decided. "Then I shall make up my mind whether or not to cast this boy down from Olympus."

"Perseus," Poseidon said. "Look at me.” 

Finally, he raised his head. He’s not quite sure what emotion was sitting in his Father’s eyes. It was as unreadable and indescribable as the ocean most days. 

"Address Lord Zeus, boy," Poseidon told him. "Tell him your story."

And so he did. From start to finish, (still kneeling, however uncomfortable it was still safer than standing without explicit permission, considering the god’s current mood) he told the tale of his quest. Omitting boring details and the fact that he’d known who the true culprit was from the very beginning. When he finished, he retrieved the Master Bolt from his bag and gently placed it at the Lord of the Sky’s feet. 

There was a long silence, broken only by the crackle of the hearth fire.

Zeus opened his palm. The lightning bolt flew into it. As he closed his fist, the metallic points flared with electricity, until he was holding what looked more like the classic thunderbolt, a twenty-foot javelin of arcing, hissing energy that made the hairs on my scalp rise.

"I sense the boy tells the truth," Zeus muttered. "But that Ares would do such a thing ... it is most unlike him."

"He is proud and impulsive," Poseidon said. "It runs in the family."

"Lord?" Pecy asked.

They both said, "Yes?"

“Ares did not act alone. Someone else was commanding his actions, as well as at least one hero in the mortal’s realm.” 

He told them of his dreams, and his general intuitions, and how the answer that made sense was neither a god nor a demigod acting under one. Of course he didn’t dare speak the name nor any of his epithets, but he’s pretty sure they got the message anyways. This was confirmed when Poseidon and Zeus looked at each other, and had a quick, intense discussion in Ancient Greek. He only caught one word.  _ Father. _

Poseidon made some kind of suggestion, but Zeus cut him off. Poseidon tried to argue. Zeus held up his hand angrily. "We will speak of this no more," Zeus said. "I must go personally to purify this thunderbolt in the waters of Lemnos, to remove the human taint from its metal."

He rose and looked at his nephew. His expression softened just a fraction of a degree. "You have done me a service, boy. Few heroes could have accomplished as much."

Percy nodded, unsure if it was smart to say anymore at this point. 

"To show you my thanks, I shall spare your life. I do not trust you, Perseus Jackson. I do not like what your arrival means for the future of Olympus. But for the sake of peace in the family, Ishall let you live."

"Ah… thank you, Lord."

"Do not presume to fly again. Do not let me find you here when I return. Otherwise you shall taste this bolt. And it shall be your last sensation."

Thunder shook the palace. With a blinding flash of lightning, Zeus was gone.

"Your uncle," Poseidon sighed, "has always had a flair for dramatic exits. I think he would've done well as the god of theater."

There was an awkward silence, and Percy slowly rose to his feet. His dad wasn’t usually one to get mad at his own kids, but there was always the possibility. 

Poseidon gripped his trident. "In the First War, Percy, Zeus cut our father Kronos into a thousand pieces, just as Kronos had done to his own father, Ouranos. Zeus cast Kronos's remains into the darkest pit of Tartarus. The Titan army was scattered, their mountain fortress on Etna destroyed, their monstrous allies driven to the farthest corners of the earth. And yet Titans cannot die, any more than we gods can. Whatever is left of Kronos is still alive in some hideous way, still conscious in his eternal pain, still hungering for power."

“And now he is healing. Persuading others to help him.” 

Poseidon shook his head. "From time to time, over the eons, Kronos has stirred. He enters men's nightmares and breathes evil thoughts. He wakens restless monsters from the depths. But to suggest he could rise from the pit is another thing."

"That's what he intends, Father. That's what he said."

Poseidon was silent for a long time.

"Lord Zeus has closed discussion on this matter. He will not allow talk of Kronos. You have completed your quest, child. That is all you need to do." 

Percy tugged harshly on the leather cord around his neck. He was wary of undoing the knot again, but craved the comfort anyway. 

“...as you wish, father.” 

A faint smile played on his lips. "Obedience does not come naturally to you, does it?"

"Not quite, but I’ve… learned it, Father."

"I must take some blame for that, I suppose. The sea does not like to be restrained." He rose to his full height and took up his trident. Then he shimmered and became the size of a regular man, standing directly in front of his son. "You must go, child. But first, know that your mother has returned."

“I would hope so. Otherwise I might have to visit Uncle Hades about our agreement.” 

His father chuckled. “Indeed. You will find her at home, son. Even the Lord of the Dead keeps his word.” 

Poseidon's eyes took on a little sadness. "When you return home, Percy, you must make an important choice. You will find a package waiting in your room."

"Did you really hate my little present so much? I thought she would have made a nice mantlepiece.”

Poesidon smiled, but otherwise ignored the comment. "Your mother is a queen among women," the Sea God said wistfully. "I had not met such a mortal woman in a thousand years. Still ... I am sorry you were born, child. I have brought you a hero's fate, and a hero's fate is never happy. It is never anything but tragic."

“I’m sure. But I don’t blame you for my birth.”

"Not yet, perhaps," he said. "Not yet. But it was an unforgivable mistake on my part."

"I'll leave you then, father. It has been a long ten days, and I’m sure you have better things to do, with the Solstice so close.” 

He was five steps away when Poesidon called, "Perseus."

Percy turned.

There was a different light in his eyes, a fiery kind of pride. "You did well, Perseus. Do not misunderstand me. Whatever else you do, know that you are mine. You are a true son of the Sea God."

That brought a smile to the hero’s face, as he nodded and turned to leave once more. People and satyrs and naiads bowed respectfully to him as he left Olympus, and a part of his soul felt a content sort of pride. 


	17. Chapter 16: Go Home, Percy

Fifteen minutes later, he was in a Taxi on his way to his apartment. He couldn’t wait to see his mom, and felt the plastic of his unicorn charm bend almost far enough to break as he fidgeted in his seat. Not that he was nervous to see her, just worried that Smelly Gabe would ruin the moment or maybe that she wouldn’t actually be there. That this was all some elaborate ruse. 

She almost crushed him with the force of her hug, as soon as she spotted him in the doorway. "Percy! Oh, thank goodness. Oh, my baby."

“I know, mom, I know. I’m okay. Are you?” 

He suddenly pushed her back, looking for any sign that she was grievously injured, or even slightly smudged makeup. She smiled at him, nodding that she was alright. He sighed in relief, and wanted to talk about his quest with her, when a voice called from the living room. 

“Hey Sally! That meatloaf done yet or what?”

Percy growled, low in his throat and suddenly had the urge to crush a certain windpipe beneath his fingers, over any charm.

She closed her eyes. "He isn't going to be happy to see you, Percy. The store got half a million phone calls today from Los Angeles ... something about free appliances." 

“Oh, I know.” 

She managed a weak smile. "Just don't make him angrier, all right? Come on."

In the month he'd been gone, the apartment had turned into Gabeland. Garbage was ankle deep on the carpet. The sofa had been reupholstered in beer cans. Dirty socks and underwear hung off the lampshades.

Gabe and three of his big goony friends were playing poker at the table.

When Gabe saw him, his cigar dropped out of his mouth. His face got redder than lava. "You got nerve coming here, you little punk. I thought the police—"

"He's not a fugitive after all," his mom interjected. "Isn't that wonderful, Gabe?"

Gabe looked back and forth between them. He didn't seem to think Percy’s homecoming was so wonderful.

"Bad enough I had to give back your life insurance money, Sally," he growled. "Get me the phone. I'll call the cops."

"Gabe, no!"

He raised his eyebrows. "Did you just say 'no'? You think I'm gonna put up with this punk again? I can still press charges against him for ruining my Camaro."

"But -"

He raised his hand, and Sally flinched. Percy saw red. 

Slapping Gabe’s hand away, stood between them, looking for all the world like the grown man he was, and not the boy that this body confined him as. 

He just laughed. "What, punk? You gonna punch me? You touch me, and you are going to jail forever, you understand?"

"Hey, Gabe," his friend Eddie interrupted. "He's just a kid."

Gabe looked at him resentfully and mimicked in a falsetto voice: " _ Just a kid _ ."

His other friends laughed like idiots.

"I'll be nice to you, punk." Gabe showed me his tobacco-stained teeth. "I'll give you five minutes to get your stuff and clear out. After that, I call the police."

“Gabe!” His mother pleaded. 

“It’s fine, mom,” Percy said lowly. “Come help me pack.”

Gabe sneered, and his mother followed him back to his bedroom. There was nothing in there that he even wanted, with how much Gabe had ruined the place and filled it with junk. 

"Gabe is just upset, honey," Sally said. "I'll talk to him later. I'm sure it will work out."

"Mom, it'll never work out. Not as long as Gabe's here. He’s doing more harm than good, now. We need him  _ gone. _ " He didn’t even try to pretend he just meant ‘out of the apartment.’

She wrung her hands nervously. "I can ... I'll take you to work with me for the rest of the summer. In the fall, maybe there's another boarding school—"

"Mom."

She lowered her eyes. "I'm trying, Percy. I just... I need some time."

A package appeared on his bed. He walked over and picked it up gently, for how tattered it was. Over the top in black marker, in a man's clear, bold print, was the address of their apartment, and the words: RETURN TO SENDER.

“Mom. Do you want Gabe to go away?”

“It’s not that simple, Percy, I-” 

“Do. You. Want. Him. Gone.”

She hesitated, then nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yes, Percy. I do. And I'm trying to get up my courage to tell him. But you can't do this for me. You can't solve my problems."

“You’re right. That wouldn’t be fair to you. But I can give you the tools to win your own fight.”

He held the box out to her. 

“Whenever you want Gabe gone, give him this box. Don’t open it yourself, just - when you want him gone, give this to him and don’t look inside when he opens it.”

“Percy, I - I can’t.” 

"Poseidon called you a queen," he told her. "He said he hadn't met a woman like you in a thousand years."

Her cheeks flushed. "Percy—"

"You deserve better than this, Mom. You should go to college, get your degree. You can write your novel, meet a nice guy maybe, live in a nice house. You don't need to protect me anymore by staying with Gabe. Just get rid of him."

She wiped a tear off her cheek. "Thank you, Percy. I- I’ll think about it,” she promised.

He set the box down, as she didn’t seem read to take it just yet. She turned a little pale.

“Where will you go?” 

“Camp Half-Blood.” 

“For the summer, or forever?”

“I guess that depends,” he reached up for his charms, worrying the lion between his fingers. 

They locked eyes, and nodded. They’d see how things felt by the end of the summer.

His mother kissed Percy’s forehead. "You'll be a hero, Percy. You'll be the greatest of all."

Gabe called after him as he walked down the hall, towards the front door. “Leaving so soon, punk? Good riddance!”

Then he yelled, "Hey, Sally, what about that meat loaf, huh?"

"The meatloaf is coming right up, dear," she told Gabe. "Meat loaf surprise."

She winked at Percy, and he smiled. 

The last thing he saw before walking out the apartment was his mother, contemplating Gabe, as if wondering which position he’d look best in as a garden statue. 

They were the first half-bloods to return alive from a quest since Luke, so of course everyone was in a celebrating mood. That and the world  _ wasn’t _ descending into the chaos of a third World War. They wore laurel wreaths to a huge feast prepared in their honor, then led a procession down to the bonfire to burn the burial shrouds their cabins had made for them in their absence. 

Annabeth's shroud was so beautiful - grey silk with embroidered owls - he told her it seemed a shame not to bury her in it. She punched him and said to shut up.

Being the son of Poseidon, Percy didn't have any cabin mates, so the Ares cabin had volunteered to make his shroud. They'd taken an old bedsheet and painted smiley faces with X'ed-out eyes around the border, and the word LOSER painted really big in the middle.

It was fun to burn.

As Apollo's cabin led the sing-along and passed out s'mores, he was surrounded by my old Hermes cabinmates, Annabeth's friends from Athena, and Grover's satyr buddies, who were admiring the brand-new searcher's license he'd received from the Council of Cloven Elders. The council had called Grover's performance on the quest "Brave to the point of indigestion. Horns-and-whiskers above anything we have seen in the past."

The only ones not in a party mood were Clarisse and her siblings, whose poisonous looks told him that he’d never be forgiven for disgracing their dad. (Again.) That was just fine. 

Even Dionysus's welcome-home speech wasn't enough to dampen Percy’s spirits. "Yes, yes, so the little brat didn't get himself killed and now he'll have an even bigger head. Well, huzzah for that. In other announcements, there will be  _ no  _ canoe races this Saturday...."

When he came back to cabin three, it was like taking the first real breath of fresh air since their quest had started. Despite knowing this brief mental and emotional peace wouldn’t last, Percy lavished in it all the same. 

In the week following his quest, he finally bought himself some more accessories; three bracelets - two went on his left arm, with similar plastic charms dangling off them as his necklace, and the one on his right was a just braided leather that fit snugly, but twisted a little in either direction in a way that felt nice. Besides the bracelets, though, he also got some simple metal rings - only for his left hand though, as they’d affect his grip on Riptide too much otherwise. There were two simple, silver-coated ones on his ring and pointer fingers, as well as a golden-looking one on his thumb with a Greek inscription of “mighty”. 

They weren’t anything special, but they all made Percy feel more grounded, anyway. When Annabeth first saw them, she just smiled and nodded at him, clearly amused. 

He also got a letter from his mom, saying that Gabe had ‘mysteriously disappeared in the middle of the night’, and while she had filed a police report she had a strange feeling they’d never find him. On a completely unrelated note, she’d recently sold a hand-made statue of hers called  _ The Poker Player  _ to an art collector through an art gallery in Soho. The money was enough for her to put down a deposit on a new house, and make a payment for her first semester’s tuition at NYU. 

_ But don't worry,  _ his mom wrote. _ I'm done with sculpture. I've disposed of that box of tools you left me. It's time for me to turn to writing. _

At the bottom, she wrote a P.S.: _ Percy, I've found a good private school here in the city. I've put a deposit down to hold you a spot, in case you want to enroll for seventh grade. You could live at home. But if you want to go year-round at Half-Blood Hill, I'll understand.) _

He already knew what his answer would be - it’s not like he needed to stay at camp year-round to learn more, and he had a feeling Annabeth would manage to make up with her dad, so she wouldn’t be needing any company. 

On the Fourth of July, the whole camp gathered at the beach for a fireworks display by cabin nine. Being Hephaestus's kids, they weren't going to settle for a few lame red-white-and-blue explosions. They'd anchored a barge offshore and loaded it with rockets the size of Patriot missiles. According to Annabeth, who'd seen the show before, the blasts would be sequenced so tightly they'd look like frames of animation across the sky. The finale was supposed to be a couple of hundred-foot-tall Spartan warriors who would crackle to life above the ocean, fight a battle, then explode into a million colors.

As he and Annabeth were spreading a picnic blanket, Grover showed up to tell them good-bye. He was dressed in his usual jeans and T-shirt and sneakers, but in the last few weeks he'd started to look older, almost high-school age. His goatee had gotten thicker. He'd put on weight. His horns had grown at least an inch, so he now had to wear his rasta cap all the time to pass as human.

"I'm off," he said. "I just came to say... well, you know."

Annabeth gave him a hug. She told him to keep his fake feet on.

Percy smiled and put a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, sending a prayer to his dad for the sea to be with him. 

"You got enough tin cans for the trip?" Annabeth asked.

"Yeah."

"And you remembered your reed pipes?"

"Jeez, Annabeth," he grumbled. "You're like an old mama goat."

But he didn't really sound annoyed.

He gripped his walking stick and slung a backpack over his shoulder. He looked like any hitchhiker you might see on an American highway - much more like the satyr Percy remembered as an adult.

"Well," he said, "wish me luck."

He gave Annabeth another hug. He clapped Percy on the shoulder, then headed back through the dunes.

Fireworks exploded to life overhead: Hercules killing the Nemean lion, Artemis chasing the boar, George Washington (who, by the way, was a son of Athena) crossing the Delaware.

"Hey, Grover," the son of Poesidon called.

He turned at the edge of the woods.

"Wherever you're going - I hope they make good enchiladas."

Grover grinned, and then he was gone, the trees closing around him.

"We'll see him again," Annabeth said.

“I know,” was all he said in reply. 

July passed. 

Percy spent his time devising capture-the-flag strategies with Annabeth, (maybe showing her a few moves he remembered her coming up with in the heat of real battles, sue him) and training with Luke at the sword-fighting arena. It was a good way to vent any frustrations. 

The last night of the summer session came all too quickly.

The campers had one last meal together. They burned part of our dinner for the gods. At the bonfire, the senior counselors awarded the end-of-summer beads.

He got my own leather necklace to go over his charm one, and when he saw the bead for my first summer, he smiled nostalgically. The design was pitch black, with a sea-green trident shimmering in the center.

"The choice was unanimous," Luke announced. "This bead commemorates the first Son of the Sea God at this camp, and the quest he undertook into the darkest part of the Underworld to stop a war!"

The entire camp got to their feet and cheered. Even Ares's cabin felt obliged to stand. Athena's cabin steered Annabeth to the front so she could share in the applause.

Percy tried to think of ways to deal with Luke the next day. He’d been kind of avoiding it all summer. 

In the morning, there was a letter on his desk - one that was both infuriatingly and humorously familiar. 

Dear Peter Johnson  ,

If you intend to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, you must inform the Big House by noon today. If you do not announce your intentions, we will assume you have vacated your cabin or died a horrible death. Cleaning harpies will begin work at sundown. They will be authorized to eat any unregistered campers. All personal articles left behind will be incinerated in the lava pit.

Have a nice day!

Mr. D (Dionysus)

Camp Director, Olympian Council #12

He snorted, crumbling the letter up and tossing it in the garbage on his way out of cabin three. Making his way to the sword-fighter’s area, he mused that there wouldn’t be much to pack up anyways, so there was more than enough time to train, hang out with a traitor, and potentially get poisoned (again.)

As he saw Luke training by himself, Percy begrudgingly allowed himself to recognize the guy’s skill with a sword. Luke was an amazing fighter, really, he just found it hard to say anything positive about the one who’d hurt Annabeth so badly - who would still hurt her, no matter how much Percy tried to minimize it, this time. Would it be less traumatic for her if Luke just failed to return to camp next year, stabbed through the heart and left to rot in a hole somewhere? 

He shook his head. No, that would deprive her of closure. She might spend the rest of her life believing he was still alive, just out of reach. He didn’t want to do that to her again; Percy had heard horror stories about how she’d been when he went missing for those few months. Not that he wouldn’t have gone just as far to find her, in that situation. 

Finally, Luke turned and saw him standing there, and stopped mid-swing to greet the younger camper.

“Percy.” 

“Hey, didn’t mean to interrupt. Just, uh - you wanna spar?”

"It's okay," he said, lowering his sword. "Just doing some last-minute practice. And sure, just give me a sec to move-” he looked back at the scattered remains of the dummies. “-uh, nothing, I guess.” 

“Those dummies won’t be hurting anyone anymore,” they both chuckled. 

The two got into fighting stances, Percy uncapping Riptide as he moved. Then he noticed the sword in Luke’s hands, and grimed slightly. The camp counsellor noticed where Percy’s gaze was focused, and grinned. 

“Like it? This is a new toy of mine, Backbiter.” 

“Backbiter, huh?” he mumbled, eyes going a little unfocused as he took a deep breath. There’s only so many memories he can repress for so long. He should have expected something to give a little eventually. 

“Yup, one side is celestial bronze, the other tempered steel. Means it’ll work on monsters  _ and _ mortals.”

Percy nodded in acknowledgment. “Didn’t know they made that sorta thing around here.” 

“Oh, they don’t - this is a one of a kind.” 

Luke smiled, the expression dimming a bit when he saw the look on Percy’s face. 

“Hey, you doing alright? Tell ya what - why don’t we leave the spar for later? Let’s just go sit in the woods and have something to drink?” 

He pulled out a six-pack of cokes from his bag, waving them a little. Well, Percy would give him credit for that - they guy did his research. Who wouldn’t accept their favorite cold drink on a hot day like this?

They made their way into the woods, him fiddling with some of the charms on his bracelets. Luke led the way, and they eventually sat down in a shady spot near the creek. Each opening a coke and relaxing against the same large tree trunk, it almost felt genuinely peaceful. 

After a while Luke said, "You miss being on a quest?"

“I guess. Think I’m starting to enjoy the quiet moments a little more, but - people like were us sorta born to battle, you know?” 

Luke nodded, appreciating the sentiment. 

“What about you?” 

His expression darkened suddenly. 

"I've lived at Half-Blood Hill year-round since I was fourteen," he said. "Ever since Thalia... well, you know. I trained, and trained, and trained. I never got to be a normal teenager, out there in the real world. Then they threw me one quest, and when I came back, it was like, 'Okay, ride's over. Have a nice life.'"

He crumpled his Coke can and threw into the creek, which pissed Percy off. Littering in a body of water, right next to the son of Poesidon, seriously? The guy really was looking for a fight. 

"The heck with laurel wreaths," Luke said. "I'm not going to end up like those dusty trophies in the Big House attic."

"You make it sound like you're leaving or something."

Luke gave him a twisted smile. "Oh, I'm leaving, all right, Percy. I brought you down here to say good-bye."

He snapped his fingers. A small fire burned a hole in the ground at Percy’s feet. Out crawled something glistening black, obviously very deadly - a scorpion. 

Desperately, his senses urged him to go for Riptide, but he restrained himself as the creature crawled onto his shoe. No, his first priority should be to get into the creek. Luke must've seen the instice to act stirring in his eyes. 

"I wouldn't," he cautioned. "Pit scorpions can jump up to fifteen feet. Its stinger can pierce right through your clothes. You'll be dead in sixty seconds."

_ Right, can’t go to the creek, what ever will I do?  _ The half-blood asked himself sarcastically.

Percy commanded the creek water to rise up in a large wave, crashing over both of them before the traitor could react. The scorpion was washed away, but he didn’t dare pretend that meant it wasn’t still a danger - and Luke was just soaked and angry. 

“Don’t think cheap tricks are going to change your fate, Percy. I’ll finish you myself, in the name of my Lord,” Luke growled, drawing Backbiter. "I saw a lot out there in the world, Percy, didn't you feel it - the darkness gathering, the monsters growing stronger? Didn't you realize how useless it all is? All the heroics—being pawns of the gods. They should've been overthrown thousands of years ago, but they've hung on, thanks to us half-bloods."

“The world would be chaos without them, Luke, you have to know that. We don’t have to like them to admit they’re necessary?”

“Necessary?” Luke laughed, charging Percy with his sword - he seemed angry, and little anxious behind his eyes, but was clearly determined to put an end to the son of Poesidon. “Their precious 'Western civilization is a disease, Percy. It's killing the world. The only way to stop it is to burn it to the ground, start over with something more honest."

“You’re crazy. Just like Ares.” 

His eyes flared. "Ares is a fool. He never realized the true master he was serving. If I had time, Percy, I could explain. But I'm afraid you won't live that long."

Luke wisely didn’t let Percy get close to the creek as they fought, and it was getting frustrating. The burn of celestial bronze against his skin was even more painful than the steel - obviously. He was steadily gaining his fair share of shallow wounds, though he was proud to see Luke fairing similarly. 

Jumping into an overhead strike that his opponent quickly blocked, he realized that even though he wanted to (and realistically, probably could) win, he didn;t know how things would play out if he did things that way. Ignoring the fact that pretty much everyone was far more likely to believe Luke over him due to seniority and the deeper bonds he shared amongst the campers, there was everything after that. If Luke died now, or even just got injured enough to be captured, Percy had no idea how the future would be affected by it. His goal was to protect his friends, and the best way to do that was to have more information than his enemies. 

He sighed internally, knowing what he had to do. 

Feigning a stumble from exhaustion or his injuries, Percy grunted painfully when Backbiter found its way between his ribs. It wasn’t an immediately fatal blow - it hadn’t struck his heart, but it had definitely got a lung. This was a bad idea., why didn’t he just let the stupid scorpion sting him? 

He collapsed to the ground as he focused all of his energy on directing his blood flow  _ around _ the gaping hole in one of his vital organs. Luke laughed victoriously, and Percy suppressed a groan when the guy decided to monologue a bit. 

“You know what my quest was two years ago, Percy? My father, Hermes, wanted me to steal a golden apple from the Garden of the Hesperides and return it to Olympus. After all the training I'd done,  _ that  _ was the best he could think up."

Percy choked on what was hopefully more spit than his own blood, distantly wondering what the hell the point of his speech had even been the first time around. 

“I mean, where's the glory in repeating what others have done? All the gods know how to do is replay their past. My heart wasn't in it. The dragon in the garden gave me this" - he pointed angrily at his scar - "and when I came back, all I got was pity. I wanted to pull Olympus down stone by stone right then, but I bided my time. I began to dream of Kronos. He convinced me to steal something worthwhile, something no hero had ever had the courage to take. When we went on that winter-solstice field trip, while the other campers were asleep, I snuck into the throne room and took Zeus's master bolt right from his chair. Hades's helm of darkness, too. You wouldn't believe how easy it was. The Olympians are so arrogant; they never dreamed someone would dare steal from them. Their security is horrible. I was halfway across New Jersey before I heard the storms rumbling, and I knew they'd discovered my theft."

Luke’s smile wavered a bit as he continued. "I got overconfident, then. Zeus sent out his sons and daughters to find the stolen bolt - Artemis, Apollo, my father, Hermes. But it was Ares who caught me. I could have beaten him, but I wasn't careful enough. He disarmed me, took the items of power, threatened to return them to Olympus and burn me alive. Then Kronos's voice came to me and told me what to say. I put the idea in Ares's head about a great war between the gods. I said all he had to do was hide the items away for a while and watch the others fight. Ares got a wicked gleam in his eyes. I knew he was hooked. He let me go, and I returned to Olympus before anyone noticed my absence." Luke ran his thumb down the flat of the blade of Backbiter as if he were hypnotized by its beauty. "Afterward, the Lord of the Titans ... h-he punished me with nightmares. I swore not to fail again. Back at Camp Half-Blood, in my dreams, I was told that a second hero would arrive, one who could be tricked into taking the bolt and the helm the rest of the way - from Ares down to Tartarus."

He sighed. “You were supposed to die in Tartarus, Percy. But it’s alright. I can leave you here to bleed out like the pathetic waste you are, and no one will find you in time.” 

“..’re being…  _ used,  _ Lu..ke… you…’ave to  _ know _ … tha..t!”

" _ I've  _ been used?" Luke's voice turned shrill. "Look at yourself. What has your dad ever done for you? Kronos will rise. You've only delayed his plans. He will cast the Olympians into Tartarus and drive humanity back to their caves. All except the strongest - the ones who serve him."

Percy felt like he was struggling under the weight of his own flesh and bones. It was getting hard to breath.  _ Just leave already,  _ he pleaded silently.  _ So I can crawl into the creek and heal, or at least die where I belong. _

His prayers must have been answered, because all Luke said next was "Good-bye, Percy. There is a new Golden Age coming. You won't be part of it,” before he slashed his sword in an arc and disappeared in a ripple of darkness.

Sighing with relief, he called for the creek water to come to him. The miniature waves were sluggish and small, but they broke over the edge of the land trapping them in place, at least. He let the water wrap around him like a full-body hug, as it dragged him into its shallow home. Letting his eyes slide shut, Percy decided to have a nice, long nap face-down in Camp Half-Blood’s creek. 

He woke with a straw in his mouth. The nectar tasted like liquid chocolate-chip cookies, as always. He was propped up on a bed in the sickroom of the Big House, his chest bandaged like he was part mummy, with smaller bandages scattered about. Vaguely he noted that his shirt was off, and that Annabeth was sitting next to him - should that even be embarrassing, if they aren’t dating yet? Well, Percy didn’t really feel embarrassed, even with Argus standing watch in the corner. 

“Here we are again,” he mumbled. 

“You idiot,” Annabeth said, which was how he knew she was secretly overjoyed to see him alive and in once piece. “You were paler han a sheet when we found you, you’d lost so much blood; and the pneumonia, if it hadn’t been for Chiron’s healing-”

"Now, now," Chiron's voice said. "Percy's constitution deserves some of the credit."

He was sitting near the foot of the bed in human form, which was probably why Percy hadn't noticed him yet. His lower half was magically compacted into the wheelchair, his upper half dressed in a coat and tie. He smiled, but his face looked weary and pale, the way it did when he'd been up all night grading Latin papers. Or watching a half-blood almost die in front him.

"How are you feeling?" the centaur asked.

“Like I’ve been stabbed,” he replied dryly. 

“Well that is… apt.” Chiron smiled carefully. “Now, could you tell me, as best you can, what happened?” 

Percy told them, between sips of nectar. 

The room was quiet for a long time.

"I can't believe that Luke ..." Annabeth's voice faltered. Her expression turned angry and sad. "Yes. Yes, I _ can _ believe it. May the gods curse him.... He was never the same after his quest."

"This must be reported to Olympus," Chiron murmured. "I will go at once."

“Don’t bother,” he grumbled. “The gods won’t even  _ talk  _ about Kronos. Zeus called the matter closed.” 

The centaur leveled him with a steady look - whatever message he was trying to send was unclear, if he was even trying to send one. 

After a few beats of silence, Percy asked “Hey Chiron?” 

“Yes, Percy?” 

“Think you could repeat your prophecy? From the Oracle. It has to do with Kronos, doesn’t it?” 

Chiron glanced nervously at the ceiling. "Percy, it isn't my place - "

"Knew it. You've been ordered not to talk to me about it, haven't you?"

His eyes were sympathetic, but sad. "You will be a great hero, child. I will do my best to prepare you. But if I'm right about the path ahead of you…”

Thunder boomed overhead, rattling the windows.

"All right!" Chiron shouted. "Fine!"

He sighed in frustration. "The gods have their reasons, Percy. Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing."

“Damn straight,” he sighed, leaning into the pillows supporting him.

Annabeth and Chiron sent him questioning looks, but he offered nothing up. It wasn’t the time for that, if there ever would be. He couldn’t imagine keeping this secret forever, though. 

"We will not sit back," Chiron promised, in lieu of more pointless platitudes. "But you must be careful. Kronos wants you to come unraveled. He wants your life disrupted, your thoughts clouded with fear and anger. Do not give him what he wants. Train patiently. Your time will come.” 

_ It’s already come and gone,  _ Percy thought bitterly. 

“For now,” the centaur continued, “you must decide whether to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, or return to the mortal world for seventh grade and be a summer camper. Think on that. When I get back from Olympus, you must tell me your decision."

“No need to think. I’ve known what I’m gonna do ever since I got back from our quest. I’m going home, Chiron. I want to be with my mom, until she’s taken from me again someday to somewhere I can’t get her back from.” 

He nodded sagely, before he glanced at Annabeth. "Oh, and, my dear... whenever you're ready, they're here."

Percy smiled. So she’d sent a letter afterall. Good for her. Her dad was pretty sucky while Annabeth was growing up, but they’d mended things pretty well and formed a close bond last time. 

Chiron rolled himself out of the room. I heard the wheels of his chair clunk carefully down the front steps, two at a time. 

Annabeth studied the ice in his glass of nectar. 

“So… you’re going back for the summer? With your dad?” 

She nodded. "I wrote him a letter when we got back. Just like you suggested. I told him... I was sorry. I'd come home for the school year if he still wanted me. He wrote back immediately. We decided... we'd give it another try."

"That took guts."

She pursed her lips. "You won't try anything stupid during the school year, will you? At least... not without sending me an Iris-message?"

“Of course not, wise-girl. We’re a team. Gotta support each other more than ever now, until Grover gets back.” 

“Right,” she smiled, “a team. First good idea you’ve ever had, seaweed brain.” 

“Ah, please, no - you’re words, they wound me. I’m already bed-bound, have mercy,” he said, fake coughing and groaning as she laughed, slapping him on the arm. 

“Quit it! I’ve had enough death-scares from you for a lifetime, you’re staying alive and healthy until we’ve at least gotten to be adults, got it?”

“Oh, so you want to grow old with me is what you’re saying?” he asked with a wink. 

“Nevermind, you’re  _ so  _ dead, seaweed brain.” 

“Not yet I’m afraid, wise girl. We still have a few asses to kick.” 

The two of them shared a look - a promise, a goodbye, and a dozen other things all at once. Annbeth gave him a quick, light hug before standing up and bidding him farewell - just for the summer. 

They’d be back next summer alright, and cause twice as much trouble, he swore it. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
